The Legacy of the Storm
by E.L. Wright
Summary: The time has come for the dragons to take their place in the Free Alliance, for their fate and freedom lies with the Ring's fate. She is the representative of her imperiled kin, formerly apprenticed but forever loyal to the gray Istari. The greatest adventure is upon her, and upon partaking it she will fight, grow, endure, love, and forge a legacy unlike any other of her race. OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Quick introduction, it shan't take long. Greetings to you, dear reader. I would just like to express my thanks for you taking the time to read this story. Before you continue, I would just like to give you a slight prelude with some background information on the creation of this fanfiction. I grew up reading Tolkien's books and watching the films. Needless to say I fell in love with it. BUT I also grew up with Christopher Paolini's Inheritance cycle, and it fueled my love for dragons. I was a little sad at Tolkien's portrayal of dragons but by no means snide in that sadness. So I decided to take things into my own hands and combine my love of dragons with my love of Tolkien's fantasy realm. I would like it to be noted that a** great deal of inspiration with the dragons and their culture in this story is inspired by Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle. So without a doubt, you will see many similarities. I categorized it in the LOTR fanfic category because it does not take place in the Inheritance universe. It doestake aspects of the Eragon series such as the Ancient Language, metallurgy, dragons, and names.  **I also have been inspired, in lesser ways, by **How to Train Your Dragon** when I began to formulate the characteristics of different dragons.

So please... No flames or criticism about what is **bolded and/or**** underlined.** I tried the best I could to balance out making the story fit into to the books and the films, but pardon if it doesn't quite fit the written history of Tolkien's realm, for I am a little rusty on my book-knowledge.

With that being said, please read and review!

With Utmost Sincerely, E.L Wright

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of the characters of LOTR universe. (Is this how a disclaimer supposed to be? I feel like I'm failing miserably:/)

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Chapter 1: Our Dragon

A strange woman is living amongst them. The Shire was alive with whispers and gossip of the latest news of their odd neighbor that lived opulently on Bag End. He returned with this woman from that disapproving adventure of his. Of all the things, riches, and stories he came back with, he brought a _woman!_ How scandalous! Of course he emphasized his relations with the female were merely platonic, but still…. To have a woman, a non-Hobbit woman nonetheless to stay with him in Bag End was odd and unheard of. Indeed, Bilbo Baggins has become odd ever since he returned from that blasphemous adventure!

The woman in mention didn't seem to be irked or disturbed in the slightest at the whispers and side glances in her direction. But upon first sight, the Hobbits were more or less terrified of her appearance. By no ways were they terrified because she was hideous. No, the woman in question and hot topic was not hideous at all. She was a comely lass with her fair raven hair hanging in large graceful curls down her slender back when it was not in its thick lengthy braid. Her pale skin was smooth and unflawed by any pockmarks or freckles. Nor were those storm shaded eyes of hers complimented by lashes by any means ugly.

No… It was her demeanor that terrified them. As pretty as the maiden was, every move she made, the way she gazed, and even the air around her screamed something ferocious. She was clothed like an odd man, in black trousers, worn boots, and an odd hooded robe of grayed blue rimmed with silver draping her lithe frame down to her thighs, held in place by a plain leather waist belt and a single leather padding armoring her right shoulder. Two different swords were strapped to her back, and the jeweled sapphire pommel of one in particular gleamed with a foreboding air.

With the slight points at the tips of her ears, they thought her to be an odd type of elf or perhaps had elf blood in her. But she moved with a grace much too fiercer than elves. With a mere narrowing of her eyes or even a simple stoic stare she struck fear into hearts of those with the misfortune of meeting her frosty edge. Even the way she stood in her lithe frame made her unapproachable.

As petite as her frame and as comely as she was, hardly anything about her stated any form of delicacy or even mercy. In the first week of her stay, many were too nervous to introduce and inquire directly upon the identity of Bilbo's latest guest. What they found to be more alienating about Bilbo was his genuine ease with the intimidating female. When Bilbo went to his rich hobbit hole of Bag End with her in tow, he was merry. He smiled at her amicably as he opened the round door of his estate and together the two oddities went into the hole.

When the nosier neighbors of his managed to intercept him without his intimidating companion, they inquired,

"Who is that lass? Isn't that Gandalf's apprentice? What's she doing here?"

Those that knew of Mithrandir also knew of the rumor that spread near and far across the land. It was rumored that the Istari had picked up an apprentice, something unheard of. The apprentice followed him like a shadow for quite some time in the second age.

Bilbo finally glanced at them with a pleasant smirk. "I'm surprised you didn't come knocking the moment I returned home."

"Are you mad? With that woman around, I hardly have the courage to pass your front gates!" His neighbor exclaimed. Bilbo hardly was offended, for he was also very much like this hobbit when he first encountered his fearsome friend.

"Shall I introduce you?" He offered politely. It wasn't the first time the woman was in the Shire, but this was the first time she was staying. The neighbors vigorously shook their heads and he chuckled. "At some point you will have to meet her in person. Don't worry, she is quite kind."

"Another time, Bilbo." They passed upon the opportunity with great enthusiasm. "But tell us the name of your guest, at least!"

"Her name is Elysia. Please come and visit if you're so curious! She's not unapproachable." Bilbo assured. As a matter of fact, Elysia had been to the Shire before their time when she accompanied Gandalf, but those times were only a handful.

They were not assured by his assurance. "That old grey pilgrim has addled your brain, Bilbo! She's the epitome of unapproachable."

At this declaration, Bilbo's civility and pleasantness waned. A small displeased frown came to his features as he spoke in a sterner voice.

"Now listen here, Elysia will be staying with me for quite some time, and she is a dear friend to me. I won't tolerate any ill will from any hobbit towards her. In fact, I expect her to be treated like a Baggins."

The neighbors were affronted by Bilbo's newfound austerity. He spoke so firmly they were unable to find the words to argue.

Despite the ice and rough start, time passed and eventually Elysia was accepted into the Hobbit community even more so than Gandalf was. In time, the Shire folk discovered Elysia had not made a single viable threat to them in her stay. She was actually quite pleasant albeit a bit enigmatic.

Elysia was a being of much curiosity and amusements, and she had a surprisingly light hearted nature as she roamed about the Shire. The younglings of the Shire began to soon adore her once they discovered she gave the most wonderful little shows of magic like Gandalf did. When they spotted Elysia, many would swarm around her and beg for another enchanting display like a twister of petals conjured from her hand, a flower bursting into flame and then combusting into sparks shaped like butterflies, or snapping her fingers and bringing forth a bright crack of light before showering them with tickling sparks.

The older Hobbits warmed up to her presence as she offered to help them in the fields here and there with her great strength and stamina or forecasted the weather with her uncanny "hunches", allowing them to prepare and cultivate their fields earlier or cancel a party to be held outside.

The Shire folk could not put their finger on what Elysia was, for she was as elusive and secretive as the troublesome wizard that came and went. Many theorized or assumed her to be a witch or elf of some sort. She certainly was no hobbit or dwarf or pure human.

They would never have guest just what exactly resided within the Shire, under the pleasant hill of Bag End; for they were correct in that she was not hobbit, dwarf, nor any race of man. But she was also not a witch or elf of a sort.

Little did those Shire halflings know that Bilbo's friend and housemate belonged to an archaic race notorious for violence and destruction.

After all, it was a balmy to even think that the lithe and imposing maiden was actually an ancient and terrifying beast albeit her demeanor was striking.

They were not to blame for their ignorance, although Hobbits tend to be disinterested with the outside world, for Elysia's kind were reclusive. Those that were not as conservative as their kin were rather notorious for their flaming destruction and terrifying conquests of great places of treasure such as… Smaug and his conquest of Erebor.

Ever since evils such as Melkor came to reign, dragons were misconceived as forces of evil. The misconception was in its prime at the Second Age with the forging of the One Ring. Like his predecessor, Sauron hunted and enslaved many dragons to his sinister will.

Dragons were _never_ beings solely existing in darkness and malcontent. Their origins went back to the Maia. They were not creatures born of evil. Evil came to them in the form of a great and terrible shadow…

The scaled beings of old were proud, fearsome, and powerful beings that took little interests in the matters of Middle Earth and its people outside their business. They answered to no one but the Eldest, the most ancient dragon, and rarely associated with outsiders. The association ceased into nonexistence after the Forsworn Shadow and the War of Dominance.

Powerful beings, they were connected to the land through a deep magic that even they could not fully comprehend. Some were attuned to the land with the forests and earth, some were masters of the great flame, some cold drakes thrived in their frosty lairs of perpetual ice and snow, sea serpents dwelled within the abyss deep in the sea, and Elysia's kind in particular ruled the heavens. Storm drakes were the greatest of fliers, rumored to wield the powers of the storm within their wings and flame. Her kind was a distant relative of the sea serpents and the fire drakes, perhaps a fusion of the two.

But it has been a long time since the great Storm Clan thrived in their heavenly dwellings. The greatest damage the Shadow and the War had done was to them. The Eryie, the nest Elysia was born and raised up to her hatchling years became known as the the Place of Sorrow, abandoned to become a grave memorial of misery and death.

There were a few survivors of the massacre. Elysia was one of them, at the cost of her mother. She had only been a hatchling then. Fate seemed to pity her, and she found herself placed in the hands of a well-known gray Istari. As his apprentice, she journeyed many places and saw many things and eventually parted ways with the old Maia to return to her people to aid in their recovery.

The woman in focus had many names amongst her kin as time went on: Stormdragon, Stormdrake, Windwalker, and Bluescales. Some were less pleasant, such as the Bastard Child of Sapphira. For even amongst her kin, Elysia was a bit estranged for her birth was a mystery. All the drakes were curious to the identity of her sire. Who was brave and worthy enough for such a great achievement to mate with Saphira Bjartskular?

In the many adventures Elysia partook with or without Gandalf, the adventure with the Hobbit of Bag End was one of the most memorable and was the journey that placed her in this unexpected but certainly enjoyable place in the Shire, dwelling within the small but opulent and warm home of Bilbo Baggins.

For Elysia, her more docile nature thrived within the Shire. She had a soft spot for Hobbits and adored the Shire. She loved the good food, warmth of the hobbit hole, and the innocence of the people, even the grumpiest old hobbit that was discontent at her unique presence. She returned to indulge in a hobby of the visual arts; drawing, painting, and even at times carving or sculpting. But her fierce edge was never lost, merely concealed from the hobbits for she remained vigilante when she travelled from the Shire. As strange as her habit was to come to and fro at times, they became used to it.

She was much more frequent than Gandalf, who they soon became wary of and proclaimed a "disturber of the peace". Whether she was secretly deemed as one as well was of little knowledge or concern to Elysia; for when she travelled from Hobbiton and at times out of the Shire, little did they know, she protected the borders from unwanted visitors and kept their valued peace.

Bree soon began to be filled with rumors of a mysterious stranger roaming the lands in the shadows and fog. Perhaps it was one of those elusive rangers. They did not know for certain, but what they did know was that unpleasant wanderers tended to avoid the Shire after what happened to the group of bandits.

As the years past the sight of Elysia became a common thing. Soon the Shire folk even began to give her a surname. Walkins, they called her, Elysia Walkins and Elysia Walkins cherished her time in the Shire. It was her place of peace where the weariness caused by the evil in the world did not enter, allowing her to breath.

But true and full adoration, even love, came to Elysia when Frodo Baggins entered Bilbo's life. Only a wee child, he had lost his parents and was taken in by Bilbo. Perhaps Bilbo was in need of a blood related company or he took the boy in out of pity. Nevertheless, Elysia adored the small creature.

* * *

She sat on a small stool, elbows resting on knees, and head bent low while her stormy eyes locked onto a pair of large soulful blue orbs.

"So this will be your successor?" She mused curiously, directing her words to Bilbo who was pouring them tea in the dining room.

"Yes. When my time comes, I will leave everything in Bag End to Frodo. I should warn you, my dear Elly, Frodo can be a bit of a rascal. He's hung out with the mischievous pair far too often."

Elysia chuckled at this. "Merry and Pippin?.. Looks like Bag End won't be so quiet after all." She tilted her head and smiled softly in a bit of uncertainty.

"You're so tiny, little one." Indeed, Frodo was a tiny thing. She could pluck him up by the scruff of his collar as though he were a kitten.

"Well of course he is, Elly. He's a Hobbit, and a not even in his tweens." Bilbo said as he stepped into the warmly lit common room. Upon seeing Elysia's face, he smiled softly.

As indecipherable as Elysia was, there were certain things as a friend Bilbo could tell. The uncertainty in those intuitive eyes as she peered at his nephew told him enough. Frodo's wide eyed and for some reason, admirable gaze confused her. He stared at her with silence.

"Frodo always asked me about you. Don't be shy, Frodo, my lad." Bilbo gestured to Elysia with his head before sipping on his cup of tea.

Little Frodo Baggins stared at the non-hobbit maiden in fascination. He had been with the children that swarmed Elysia for a small magic show, but now he had the opportunity to have time with the delightful lady all to himself. Her curious gaze made him a little shy. Was there something wrong with him? Then he heard her voice. He quite liked it. It wasn't silvery, but it held a low, husky, and oddly melodious tenor. It was a voice that implied there was potential for great and terrifying anger and ferocity. Yet, it soothed him, making him feel safe and protected.

Building up his courage, Frodo made the first move and walked up to her knees.

"Can I feel your hair?" His request caught Elysia off guard, but she appeared more amused than startled.

Frodo wanted to feel at least one of those lustrous onyx curls of hers. They looked much lovelier and different than the curly hairs of the hobbit maidens he had seen all his life.

Strong but gentle hands plucked him from the floor and propped him on a lap. Delighted, the small hobbit grabbed a lock of hair and began to tug and caress it, marveling its silky texture and slight springiness.

Bilbo smiled at the softness in those greyed orbs. Who knew dragons were capable of being such affectionate creatures? He had a feeling those two would be destined for a strong bond of friendship and love, a dragon and a hobbit... And as odd as his little family here in Bag End was, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Indeed, Elysia grew very fond and fiercely protective of Frodo, and Frodo grew equally fond and loving of her. She was his surrogate mother, sister, and undeniable friend. He was usually the first that came rushing to greet her after she returned from one of her elusive trips. They even kept secrets together, but Frodo never knew the magnitude of what Elysia shared with him; he merely kept them under very tight lock and key in his mind for he valued her friendship and trust very much. Besides, it was fun to have secrets only the bachelors of Bag End knew. It felt more important.

"Elly…? Are you an elf? Is that why you're always going away?" Frodo inquired as Elysia drank her tea. Bilbo was off to purchase some of the fresh fish from the locals. He stretched on the tips of his toes and looked up at her.

"Are you visiting Rivendell? Will you sail west?" His voice grew more nervous. The thought of Elysia leaving them for good made him apprehensive.

The said woman placed her tea cup back on the table and peered curiously at her young hobbit friend. "No… I am not an elf, and I haven't visited Rivendell since your Uncle Bilbo ventured there." She explained. Frodo's gaze was still expectant for an explaination.

The dragon then sighed and patted the chair next to her in the dining room. Frodo sat obediently, and Elysia found herself musing how fast he had grown into his tweens.

"It's about time I've told you, little one. I don't like to deceive you." She smiled flatly. Frodo didn't like the sorrow that flickered in her bottomless gaze.

"Can you keep a secret?" She whispered in a hushed tone. Frodo smiled and leaned forward.

"Come on, Elly! You know I always do!" He wasn't loose lipped like Pippin, who rambled on about everything like a foolish Took.

"Oh?" Her eyes twinkled merrily. "But this is a secret you **must** keep. It is the secret of secrets. If you do…" Her voice became hushed and solemn. "I might have to leave you forever."

Now Frodo would definitely keep the secret to his dying day. He vigorously nodded and Elysia leaned forward.

"I'm nor Elf, Hobbit, or any race of the Free People, little one. Remember those stories Bilbo has told you? How he survived his adventure and witnessed the desolation of Smaug? What did he tell you… About dragons?"

"He said that he saw two of them… One that helped him and then there was Smaug who was terrible and stupendous… But he never told me the name of the blue drake. He said he promised the blue drake he wouldn't give away its existence."

Elysia smiled wider at this. "Bilbo is a hobbit of honor… The blue drake knew she could trust him… He was always _my_ favorite out of the company."

It took a few heartbeats, but the revelation came to Frodo. His eyes widened and his mouth rounded to an O. He stared at her with a new fascination, and Elysia waited for any signs of fear.

"You're jesting!" His exclamation of disbelief made Elysia chuckle, but she did not waver. Frodo's eyes grew even more impossibly wider, bulging from his tiny face. Elysia wasn't a very good liar.

"B-but… B-but… Where's your scales? Where's your tail? Your wings? You don't even have the tongue!" Frodo began to peer around Elysia for any signs of scales or wings.

Elysia laughed and simply rested her chin on her hand.

"Magic, little one. I'm in an alternate form. The shire would be in an uproar if they saw a dragon roaming around. We dragons call this form 'shrink shift' in our fledgling years, but many eventually forget the ability when they age because they find it of little use. Dragons prefer not to associate with the more delicate people of Middle Earth. There are few of us who can still do this that aren't young."

Still, the disbelief remained in Frodo's eyes and Elysia shook her head with a sigh. "You still don't believe me?" She then plucked him by the collar and lifted him eye level.

Her pupils began to sharpen into slits, and Frodo could have sworn he saw a scaly blue pattern flicker across the surface of her pale skin. Perhaps it was the trick of the light.

But then the oddest thing happened that brought a gasp from the young Baggins. A pair of silvery white horns began to protrude from her temple like a second pair of pointy ears.

"Not all of us drakes have wings… The ones that reside deep in the forests and the mountains can be flightless." Elysia flicked out her tongue, revealing a slight split in the center. So she did have a forked tongue…

Elysia settled the Baggins down on his feet and her features began to return to normalcy. Frodo was still gaping.

"Are you frightened Frodo?" She inquired lightly, yet in her heart she began to dread Frodo's reaction. Would he run away and scream in fear?

"… Can you fly?"

"Yes… My clan, in particular, has the best fliers amongst us dragons."

"What's it like?" Frodo wondered in awe. To have the ability to fly, she must have ventured anywhere and everywhere.

A wondrous and dreamy smile adorned her lips. "It… It's the most invigorating and wonderfully free experience… You're not scared?" She assessed him gently.

"You'd never hurt me." Frodo stoutly said. "Bilbo says you protected him and saved his life on many occasions. But, Elly… Bilbo says Bag End is like a second home for you… Where is your home? Aren't there more of you? Don't you have a family of dragons?"

An ancient sorrow shadowed her eyes, and Frodo immediately regretted asking as her smile became sad and hollow.

"My family died a long time ago during the dark times." Her clan suffered under the chaos of Sauron in Second Age when he forged that accursed One Ring. She had been so young at that time… a mere fledgling… a child when she lost her family to the evil. She still had chills of the haunting memory of "Sundav Wyrdfell", the Forsworn Shadow that started a bloody "Du Fyrn Abr Domia", the War of Dominance amongst her kin.

A small hand patted her cheek, breaking her out of her mournful reverie. Frodo gazed at her with his large blue eyes.

"We're your family… Bilbo and I…"

A smile of fondness returned to Elysia. She plucked Frodo from the floor and embraced him in her warm arms. If she were in her dragon form, she would have enveloped her wings around the hobbit.

"Indeed you are."

And so Frodo and Bilbo Baggins were the only two hobbits to know who exactly Elysia Walkins was. Others of the Shire only knew her as the odd Bag End Outsider. Elysia indulged Frodo with tales of her kind, and her many adventures and stories, and there were even times when she came back from one of her mysterious trips with a token for them.

"What's this?" Frodo marveled at the foreign flower potted on the table. It was a dark rich blue deep throated lily that bloomed with a surreal glow.

"That is a Loivissa, little one. It is a flower native to the mountains near my home." Elysia yawned, weary from her long travel.

"It's beautiful." He was afraid to touch the lovely flower.

Elysia smiled. "It is most beautiful under the moonlight. It gives off a silver white radiance. You should see when there is a whole field of them, little one. You do not need a lantern to light your way when these flowers illuminate your path."

"Can I show Sam? Please, Elly?" All Hobbits of the Shire knew of Elysia's frequent mysterious trips. Frodo wouldn't have to divulge details, but still it would be nice for someone else that truly loved making things grow to see something like this.

"See if that gardener can cultivate the flower for you." Elysia ushered. The said hobbit immediately ran out the door, leaving Elysia to muse to herself.

"I hope Bilbo purchased some of that fish."

She then released a troubled sigh and rotated her shoulders, grunting at the soreness. "How tedious." She growled. "I wonder if Gandalf had any success in finding that wretched little gremlin."

Elysia couldn't deny she was impressed by Gollum's stealthy ability. Even with her keen senses, he was well hidden. It was a bit demeaning, like a hawk unable to catch that stupid rat despite its predatory prowess.

She felt that time was waning. There was an evil that lurked like a poisonous shadow in Middle Earth, and the shadow was expanding. Soon it might swallow up even the most pure of places. In particular, her most recent trip to the Cave of Ancients had been unnerving.

* * *

The Eldest had summoned them so suddenly. Clan leaders, lone travelers, all the dragons that were not in their great hidden slumber had come to the cavernous archaic cave of hardened molten rock and jewels. Hexagonal pillars were used as perches for many dragons. Some even rested on the large crystals jutting out from the walls. Elysia herself was perched near an opening, never fond of caves and the underground to begin with. At least in a hobbit hole, there are windows. They all faced the Eldest who sat between an archway of smoothed rock and crystal.

This ancient being could hold Smaug in a clawed hand. With a single swipe of his massive tail, he could sweep an entire village of houses from their foundations as if they were made of hay, but like all the great old dragons he spent his time mostly sleeping and dreaming. With a long serpentine neck ridged with large worn spikes and a frill of sharp horns outlining his head, he shook his massive form and unfurled his large wings, shaking the dust from the edges of the veined extensions. His white scales rippled like pearls as he preened the slightly frayed edges of his wings before opening his great maw and revealing worn but still formidable serrated teeth. His name was Valzinjr the Eldest.

"Naina garzjla!" (Brighten light!) His deep powerful voice echoed the darkness in the ancient language. No one dared disobey the command of the Great White Dragon. A few massive drakes with stockier heads and under biting jaws opened their mouths. From their maws a flame was lit and the cave was illuminated as the crystals began to spread the light.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda." (May the stars watch over you) He rumbled in the ancient tongue.

They all murmured in unison. "Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda." (May good fortune rule over you, peace live in your heart, and the stars watch over you)

As the ritualistic words of greeting came to an end, the White Dragon continued in the ancient tongue.

"_**I have summoned you all under the watchful eyes of the stars to give you grave news… Nine hatchlings of Vervada have been taken."**_

An echo of growls and hisses of exclamation echoed through the cave. Elysia's eyes widened and a hiss escaped her throat. They could not disbelieve this news or deny it for one cannot lie in the ancient language. A deep and powerful magic prevented that.

Still to say it was shocking was an understatement. To kidnap or kill a hatchling from their nest was the greatest of taboos. To kidnap nine was a deed of pure evil they have not been exposed to since the dark ages.

"_**Death… Kill… Destroy! Burn the vermin that committed this atrocity!"**_ Many dragons snarled in a rage so great it caused tremors in the mountain.

"_**Silence!"**_ Valzinjr ordered. They obeyed, but mutters of dark threats hung thick in the air. The thirst for blood was great.

"_**The vermin that committed this cannot be destroyed by fire, for he is an evil that thrives within flame, shadow, and ash."**_

Unease rippled through the air.

"_**All of you know whom I speak of… The Forsworn has awakened… The darkness is rising. Our kind is being threatened once more."**_

"_**Then we must face this threat and fight!"**_ A cold drake roared.

"_**You're a fool of a wyrm, Jormun! Do you want history to repeat itself? We rebelled against the Shadows and look what happened! The War of Dominance crippled our kind. The great Storm Clan was destroyed!" **_A fire drake hissed. At the mention of her people's massacre, Elysia flinched. Even after eons to cope with the scars of her clan's bloody end, the loss still burned like an icy knife into her heart.

"_**Hold your forked tongue, blood scales!"**_ An old dragon with brown scales covered in vegetation growled. _**"Do not mention that forsaken night to one who has lived it."**_

At this, many sharp eyes flickered to Elysia. The Eldest lashed his tail out and smacked it to the ground to reclaim order. The cave fell in silence once more.

"_**Fyrenze is right. We have not recovered from the War of Dominance. We cannot have our kind lose ourselves to the shadows once again or it shall drive our race to the verge of extinction."**_

A green dragon let out a low moan expressing his outrage. _**"So what? We're supposed to hide?"**_

"_**Yes… And no… We must aid the Free Alliance in secrecy as much as we can."**_

The crimson dragon, Fyrenze, let out a smoky snort. _**"You speak of relying on the bastard offspring of Sapphira while we hide."**_

The White Dragon was about to chide the young red drake but a roar interrupted him. The said "bastard offspring" bared her teeth and spat a ball of her notorious heated blast at Firenze's perch.

"_**Is that a challenge I hear, Fyrenze?"**_

"_**What of it, kin killer?" **_Fyrenze snarled. He still hadn't forgiven the storm dragon for her part in Smaug's desolation. The drake shared his blood.

Elysia gave a snort of disdain.

"_**Your precious Smaug the Stupendous had it coming to him. His mind was rotted by the shadow, and he fell into mindless greed and vanity."**_

"_**You grew soft in your time with that old meddlesome istari!" **_He countered heatedly. Many dragons had shared disapproval when Elysia's apprenticeship to Mithrandir was known. Elysia had already been considered a bit of an idiosyncrasy. Many were shocked when Elysia's formidable dam was impregnated by an unknown source. When dragons mated, it wasn't always for life for it depended on the dragon. Still, every dragon always knew who their sire and dam was. Elysia was the exception to this and to many other things.

An earsplitting shriek stabbed at their sensitive ears as the "kin killer's" claws raked the flat surface of stone. Elysia's tail twitched like a hunting cat as she released a low hiss.

"_**Do you want to test that, blood wyrm?... I will skin you **_**alive**_**…"**_

"_**Stormwalker! Fire drake! ENOUGH!" **_Valzinjr rumbled and quelled the rising venom between Elysia and Fyrenze. He lashed his serpentine head to the tall pillars where Fyrenze was perched and glared at the young drake with powerful gold eyes.

"_**Take great care what you imply, Fyrenze. Are you saying you doubt my judgement?"**_

Fyrenze seemed to shrink at this. _**"Forgive me, Eldest…. I did not mean to insult your judgement."**_

The Eldest snorted and released a hiss before he directed his voice to all.

"_**We have little choice but to remain hidden from the wretched Eye of the Forsworn. Elysia has shown more resilience to the shadows than any of us. She will act as our representative when the time and the Free People summon a council… The Forsworn has committed the most disgusting of crimes. We cannot linger and do nothing." **_A long heated breathe escaped the old being. _**"But we cannot lose more of our people to the darkness… If more of our people fall, then it will be our bane…."**_

"_**We need not another Place of Sorrow." **_A gold and crippled dragon by the name of Glaedhron mournfully added.

Dragons weren't the most peace-loving creatures. In battles and challenges, Elysia's kind had a savagery that could cripple a man with fear, but they were not war mongers. To many veterans, like Glaedhron Goldenscales, the haunting misery of the war ran deep. Glaedhron's hatchlings were motherless and Glaedhron's back leg was lost in a battle between two of their corrupted kin, Agravel and Jura. They were his clansmen and cousins.

_**"Many that are not here have already sought to hide in slumber…"**_A serpentine drake of the sea hissed and swirled around her crystalline pool. Her scales glimmered several hues of sea green and silver while her lanky limbs grabbed the edge of the pool with clawed webbed fingers. The only dragons that were not present in this meeting were either represented by their clan leaders, enslaved by the Shadow, hatchlings, or are residing in a state of very long hibernation.

_**"And the elves are sailing west, are they not?"**_ The Eldest asked. The sea dragon hissed and nodded.

"_**My sister, Mirimel grows restless. She has informed me the darkness dwelling in putrid waters is starting to stretch its tendrils. Many of my kin are beginning to stray further away from Middle earth and reside within waters closer to the eastern shores of the Undying Lands."**_

_** "Fernyn Seasonscales residing in Mirkwood has become silent."**_ A brown wingless dragon informed.

Valzinjr the Eldest narrowed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. _**"And so despair thickens and hope wanes… We must remain on guard. Those of you that yet sleep and will remain so must keep constant vigilance. May the stars watch over you, and may your claws and fangs remain sharp."**_

With that being said, the great communion came to a wary end. Elysia remained while the dragons began to disperse, returning to their dwellings in the sea, mountain, plains, or forests. When they were alone, Valzinjr and Elysia finally spoke in private.

"_**I have given already given you Silvindr amongst many other things. I cannot think of anything else I can give to you to aid you on this perilous task."**_

Elysia was in her humanoid form, perched on the massive forefinger of the ancient dragon. She smiled and bowed respectfully.

"_**You have given me enough, Valzinjr-elda and have honored me with your faith. I will do what I can to help our people."**_

The Eldest let out a small but tired sigh as he curled into a more comfortable position.

"_**Perhaps it was fate that you became so different amongst us. You storm dragons are a curious clan in general, but you… You and your mother bring a whole new breed of peculiar into the mix…. May the stars watch over you, Elysia Bluescales."**_

"_**To you as well, Valzinjr Whitescales…"**_

In a whirlwind of blue streams of fiery magic, Elysia was off into the night for the very long journey back to the Shire.

* * *

Elysia sat on a patch of grass on the hillside of Bag End, munching on a slab of salted pork as she watched Frodo and Sam marvel at the Loivissa in the distance. She smirked softly at Sam tending to the Loivissa with great care, scooping it out of its small clay pot and into a much larger and fancier pot glazed a lovely green that emphasized the beauty of the plant. Firenze was right about one thing. She did have a soft spot for the Free People, hobbits in particular, and she will see the end of the Forsworn's shadows not only for her people but for this place and its people she grew to love.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Itch

Frodo walked through the round door of his Uncle's estate with an apple in hand. Munching contently, he wandered through the halls and bent over the table in nonchalance to glance at the maps his uncle pours over more than usual as of late. He stopped his lazy perusal at the sight of the chest, or what was not next to the chest. Jaws forgetting to chew, Frodo quickly searched through the hobbit hole with a small pout.

"Elly?" He called.

A voice right behind him made him jump and his curly hairs stand on end.

"Yes little one?" His heart eased at the familiarity of that smoky voice. Turning around, he met those penetrating sage-like eyes that reminded him of a stormy day.

"You're leaving again?" His voice was more accusing than inquiring. "Faersing and Silvindr are missing."

Elysia wore her everyday outfit, consisting of a plain tunic and trousers tailored to her fit. While it was odd for a comely woman to dress up so plainly and unlike her gender, the hobbits of the Shire could only shrug it off as another oddity of their Elly Walkins.

The said maiden smiled at the interrogation and the sharp observations made by her small friend. Faersing and Silvindr were the names of her swords. They were always tucked safely in the corner near the trunk of Bilbo's belongings from his adventure, and never moved from that spot unless Elysia moved them herself which usually happened when she was about to travel again; for the swords were untouchable. While Silvindr, the white and silver falchion was simply untouched by anyone else out of respect for Elysia's valued possessions, Faersing was quite _literally_ untouchable. The sword had a mind of its own in a sense. It did not consent to being wielded by any other except its master, Elysia.

In Frodo's younger years when he was sorely tempted to touch the scabbard or even grip the handle or pommel of the marvelous sword, Elysia quickly admonished him for "Faersing is volatile and unyielding to anyone… Even you, young master Baggins." However, occasionally she would allow Frodo to caress the smooth sapphire pommel of the sword as it was in her grasp, but never was anyone except Elysia was allowed to grip the sword by the handle.

"I have somewhere to be and someone to meet, little one. Don't fret, I won't be long." Sometimes she was away for weeks at a time.

Frodo huffed through his nose and crossed his arms with the apple still in hand.

"Will you be here for Bilbo's birthday?" He asked.

It was also Frodo's birthday as well. Elysia felt affectionate pride at Frodo's good heart and ruffled his dark curly head.

"Frodo Baggins! You wound me. You think I would ever have the audacity to miss an occasion of such importance?" She mock scoffed and that brought a laugh from Frodo.

The hobbit has grown into a nice young lad, fair for a hobbit with those bright blur eyes and cleft little chin. Even though hobbits aged slower than men, Elysia found herself in slight mourning that Frodo has grown up so fast for her. But she was more proud than sad. Soon, Frodo would no longer be in his tweens and become an adult by hobbit standards... Although by Elysia's old standards, he was still extremely young.

The sun was setting and soon it would get dark. It was prime time for Elysia to leave, for in the dark, her dragon form was hidden the best. Frodo stared up at her pleadingly.

"Can I at least see you off?" He asked hopefully.

Elysia's eyes narrowed at the devious little trick. Frodo's large blue eyes were hard to say no to, especially when he pleaded so sincerely. With a sigh, Elysia nodded.

"Let me secure Faersing and Silvindr and you can come along until we reach the edge of hobbiton."

...

Frodo walked with a bounce in his steps alongside his dragon friend. She donned her usual outfit of leather and a plain gray hooded robe. She had her swords wrapped up in an innocent bundle to prevent the hobbits from looking at her with more displeasure. Her long thick braid hung down her back in its usual place, swinging back and forth with her steps.

"Elly?"

"Hm?" Elysia didn't' bother to look at Frodo.

"Can you tell me the story of Faersing again?"

"Again?" She smirked and finally looked down at her hobbit companion. Frodo nodded. He never tired of the story of Faersing's origins, or any story that Elysia treated him to.

"Well where to begin…" She drawled for some old story telling effect.

"Faersing is what we dragons would call in the common tongue a 'soul item'. A long time ago, when our humanoid forms were of more frequent use and we became of age, a dragon has the choice of forging a weapon or even a trinket that solely belongs to them. The item is usually made of things that are mined, and as it is forged, it is imbued with the magic that runs through the one dragon's veins. All soul items are forged with draconian fire or mined and polished into a pristine appearance by their dragons. For my clan in particular, the few that chose to forge a soul item, were very picky and particular with our items."

Elysia looked up at the starry sky, and Frodo followed her line of sight.  
"One particular night, when the stars were shining bright upon the Eyrie, a star fell to the land. It crashed and caused a great crater that was eventually used as a nesting ground, and as it's light diminished it left behind an ore of metal. We called this metal Brightsteel or Star metal, and eventually it became a tradition for all dragons to forge soul items through this ore along with their scale in order for their item to mirror the dragon's color. Brightsteel can be scattered anywhere in this world, but it is extremely hard to find and extremely valuable to the dragons. I eventually found my ore deep in the roots of an ancient tree...  
Ten days and ten nights it took, and I nearly breathed out all the heat I had in me enough to feel cold and feeble, but with the help of Rhunon, an ancient dragon that mastered forging, from the heart of my flame and effort came Faersing. Faersing, like all soul items, is near indestructible. It can cut through the thickest sheet of steel as if it were made of parchment and even pierce through draconian scales. It has shattered blades of many foes and has been my loyal counterpart for the longest time. But alas, the stubborn weapon can be a bit too flashy and conspicuous for my taste and even at times destructive. Especially when I need to fight in stealth and go unnoticed, I prefer to use Silvindr."

Silvindr was not made of the star metal, for it was forged before the discovery of the sky ore. It was forged by the Eldest himself using his own scales and invaluable mithril. Silvindr was deemed no less valuable than any other new Brightsteel made weapon or treasure. The Eldest bestowed it upon Elysia.  
It was as light and swift as the wind, slaying many unsuspecting enemies with a silent but deadly cut.

"We're here, little one." They stopped at a clearing surrounded by a healthy forest of trees. Night has fallen and the sky was moonless, perfect for Elysia to take flight without being seen.

"You better not be late to the party." Frodo pressed. "Uncle will be very cross with you and so will I."

Elysia smiled and bowed with a hand placed over her heart. "A dragon's honor."

Then in a twisting flurry of flaming blue light, in Elysia's place was a great winged beast with scales of sapphire hue. Frodo seldom ever saw Elysia in her draconian form, and when he did, he marveled at the jewel like quality of her scales and her majestic appearance. Although she was smaller than he thought dragons would be, especially for one as old as her, but Elysia preferred her smaller form. Her original form was too big for her to remain discreet.

Her body was built to be sleek, swift, and aerodynamic. Three sets of wings adorned her as she placed all four sharply clawed limbs onto the earth. Her massive wings were complimented by a finlike pair at the base of her body that focused on helping her glide while the third set was her retractable tailfin that was tipped with sharp horns at the end. Her lithe body was the size of a small cottage or a large wagon and on the spine of her back, from the back of her head and down to her tail, was a row of sharp white spines that went down her neck and calmed into curved ridges to her long tail.

The dragon bent her head and snorted at Frodo's curly hair. Even though her neck wasn't as long as others in this speedy form, she still towered over Frodo. The hobbit looked up at the fair dragon and smiled wondrously, wondering what it was like if he perched himself between those antennae like horns on her head.

"Be back soon, Elly." Frodo whispered as he embraced the dragon's thick neck. The ear plates just beneath her horn twitch and she let out a warble before her wings wrapped around Frodo protective blanket. Frodo marveled at the warmth of her frame and the taut membrane texture of her wings.

"Go home, little one." Her voice naught but a whisper as she nudged him away and released him from her winged embrace. Frodo smiled and waved as Elysia unfurled her massive wings and shot vertically to the sky in a massive gust of powerful wind. Within heartbeats, she was out of sight in the darkness and Frodo began to rush home to the comfort of the Bag End hobbit hole.

000

How wonderful the cool night air was as it caressed her wings. Elysia closed her eyes and glided through the columns of thick clouds bulging in the sky. Feeling giddy at the exhilarating freedom, Elysia spun as she soared upward before easing her body and ceasing her flapping. Her body began to sink and she quickly maneuvered her wings and with a few beats, steadied herself back to her usual glide.  
Why did all those other winged dragons reside in such gloomy restricted caves when all of this was open to them? Her clan knew how to live and enjoy this fantastic experience people with wings can only know. Who needed to seek solid treasure when they had this gorgeous wealth in the heavens?

As much as she loved being airborne, she had her responsibilities and an errand to run. Swooping low enough, she scanned the forest landscape and released an oddly pitched warbling growl and a few keen chirps. She could shriek for better idea of her surroundings, but the shriek would bring unwanted attention. Her noise echoed through the forest and the sound bounced back for her horns and ears to receive the sonic signals.

Soon she received another signal, not of her own but familiar nonetheless and immediately made her descent. Her claws grazed a lake and managed to snag a few fish before settling to the ground. Elysia tossed the fish onto the grass and began to shrink shift. She grimaced as her wings and tail began to sink into her skin. With some useful magic, her clothes began to return to her frame.

The enchantment to keep her clothing and belongings intact was tedious, but it was less tedious than having her clothes torn at her transformation or having to be carried in her claws. Elysia still remembered, with much chagrin, of the several incidents she went into town a little to bare for her liking...

Adjusting Faersing and Silvindr on her back trap, she tucked her braid into her hood and quickly concealed her face under the clothing. Plucking now limp fish off the ground by their tail, Elysia went off into Fangorn Forest.

Fangorn Forest had always fascinated her. It was full of mysteries, life, and strange magic that filled the very air and overwhelmed her senses. She walked precariously in silence, taking great care not to disturb the slumbering trees. Eventually, her walk halted at the base of a particularly large tree partially uprooted to a slant.

_**"Greetings, earthscales, I am a dragon and a friend…"** _She whispered in the ancient language. The silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Then a rumble was heard from the roots of the tree, and finally the odd lumpy mounds of earth, rock, and vegetation began to move. A small growled sigh rose from the ground.

_**"So you've come, bluescales. It's been a while…. Since you've visited…"** _The earthen ancient dragon spoke as slow as an Ent.

The drake was wingless and massive, so massive in fact that only its upper body was unearthed while the rest remained in an underground hollow, snug in the roots of the slanted tree. Moss covered the dull brown green of his scales, and even a small sapling complimented by a small shrub adorned the dirk caked back of the old dragon.

Elysia found these earth dragons to be perplexing. How could they stand to have so much dirt dirtying their scales? Emrys Fernscales had once merely chuckled and told her she would never understand. Her mother, Sapphira, prided her radiant blue scales. Many dragons that inherit the jewel like quality now and then ergo were vain and cleanly. But Sapphira's mother was on a whole different altitude with her scales.

While Elysia inherited many things from her mother, she—as many dragons—could not rival Sapphira's vanity, but she did indeed rival the fair mother in cleanliness and was always determined to keep her scales in pristine condition. So to see these dirt caked dragons with plant and fungi on their backs brought a scale itching peeve. Elysia wanted nothing more than to toss the dragon into the nearest lake and shake and scrub him clean but alas, courtesy to the old dragon prevented her.

He wrinkled his noise and a forked tongue flickered from his lips. Green eyes became lidded in expectation under the drapes of lichen and moss.

"You brought a treat?"

Elysia looked unamused as she snorted, lifting the three fat fish in her hand.

"I'm surprised you can even sustain yourself on nuts, berries, and vegetables. We dragons are not herbivores, Virin." She deadpanned. Dragons were actually omnivorous, but they tended to favor meat.

"Bah, it's tedious to catch the blasted furry critters and I'm old… Chewing them takes more effort. Fish and greens on the other hand…." He licked his chops. "Toss one of them fishes."

Elysia did as the old dragon requested and tossed a fish into his open jaws. Like a crocodile, he snapped up the meal and swallowed with a small gulp.

"So what is it you want this time, Bluescales?" Dragons never felt the need to just simply drop by and share pleasantries. There was always a motive behind visiting those drakes residing in solitude.

"Any news?" She perched herself on a boulder and tossed the rest of her fishes at Virin.

Virin released a throaty sigh before swallowing the morsels. With a small groan, he settled himself more comfortably on his forepaws. The moss on his limbs cushioned his ancient head.

"Fangorn is noisier than usual… Something foul is permeating the old air." He grumbled.

"With the Forsworn still in existence, there is always something foul in Middle Earth. But Fangorn is under the watch of the White Wizard." While Elysia never met Saruman in person, she was told he is the strongest of the Istari.

A snort smoked out of Virin's nostrils. "It is the White Wizard that I sense something foul from. He has not taken his usual stroll through Fangorn for some time now. Isengard is starting to stink like a bog… The trees are becoming restless."

The matter with Saruman disturbed Elysia, although she would never let it show. Something didn't feel right about that white Istari. It never sat well with her horns to know that he was the lead figure of the wizards.

"What of those repugnant beasts?" She inquired.

"The orcs?... The trees whisper to each other… Orcs are becoming more as of late. Some even dare to enter Fangorn, but you and I both know that is a foolhardy thing to do. The trees are restless, and they were never fond of those foul creatures." The dragon's nose wrinkled in distaste at remembering the rotting stench of the orcs.

"The trees are always restless-"

"No… Bluescales… I mean they are starting to stir… More than usual." His remark was wistful and ominous.

"You mean the Ents?" Elysia then deadpanned. "The Ents have been dormant for centuries."

"Well they are startling to rattle their old bark. It won't be long now…" The brown dragon drawled with another long sigh.

Elysia frowned and narrowed her eyes before inwardly shrugging at this. It was of little concern to her whether or not the Ents are active. There were more imperative matters at hand.

"Have you located that gremlin?"

"Gollum? The pitiful creature? No, he has not wandered into Fangorn. I've lost track of him since his escape in Mirkwood. The trees there aren't very intuitive as of late… Darkness spreads through their soil and air more profoundly."

"I'm not surprised. Even Fernyn isn't responsive." Elysia grumbled. Ever since Gandalf discovered Sauron to be the one under the foul alias of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, Mirkwood was maimed. She would have sought Fernyn herself, but Elysia avoided Mirkwood as though it were the plague. After the incidents with Thranduil and that pointy eared princeling of his, Elysia would not enter there unless it was a must, not even for the finest fireweed.

"Brightscales… Be cautious as you tread this volatile earth… The soil is becoming more tainted with blood and shadow… The Forsworn Shadow is starting to spread once more…. Especially in the skies, you must be wary."

"I'm always vigilant." Elysia somewhat sniffed.

"Hide yourself well…" Virin began to sink back into his earthen domain. "Spies of the Forsworn are everywhere… May the stars watch over you."

"And may good fortune rule over you, earthscales." Elysia straightened up from her boulder seat as the dragon began to sink and submerge himself deep into the roots of the old tree once more..

000

Something was amiss. The sky held a lesser sense of freedom as she glided through the clouds. Virin's warning had left her warier than usual, and her scales itched in apprehension.

_"The spies of the Forsworn are everywhere…"_

Her senses were more alert than usual. This time she took no leisure to spin or loop and express her avian skills. Sniffing the air, she scoured the skies with her keen eyes… There was nothing for a moment. Then her horns captured it. Her ears twitched as she heard a cacophony of croaking squawks and the buzz of many flapping feathery wings.

A massive cloud of Crebain was nearing her route. She knew those foul noisy birds anywhere, but there was something about this particular flock that worsened the unpleasant itch in her scales. A dragon must never doubt their senses, and her senses urged her to conceal herself from these pesky birds. While a great dragon had no need to feel threatened by a miniscule feathery bird, Crebain were well known to be used as dark spies, and she took no chances.

As a storm drake, the skies were always in her favor. Wind blew against the Crebain and there was a convenient incoming mass of cloud coverage that could conceal her dragon form. Angling herself towards the cloud, she entered the misty plume just as the raucously squawking birds flew into sight.

She navigated through the thick clouds, relying on every other sense other than her sight. Despite the weariness in her winged joints, she gave an extra burst of speed. She had to keep her promise after all, and for once the skies weren't as inviting and free anymore. Banking to the left, she decided to take a different route that offered her faster landing. She landed silently in the South Downs just a few miles from Bree and sighed, stretching her body out and about before beginning to shift and take the long nonstop trek to the Shire.

The sound of horses stopped her in mid stride. Elysia quickly put up her hood and crouched low to the ground. Her forefinger carefully dipped itself in the blades of grass and plucked a few droplets of early morning dew from the green field. Gently pressing the dew moistened forefinger to her lips in a shushing gesture, she blew a soft hiss through her mouth. Magic echoed with every breath. The soft dew began to shiver into mist.

Soon a thick mist began to rise from the moist ground the land was shrouded in fog, reducing visibility to a bare minimum. With the particular spell in good work, Elysia went off towards the Shire.

Dragons were hardy like the elven folk, and they needed little sleep and could travel for days without rest. But even the healthiest of elves and dragons had their limits. Elysia was the epitome of healthy, but she had flew nonstop for a solid week and was now walking nonstop to reach Bag End, not even stopping for food. She was more hungry than sleepy, and dearly longed for the good food of the Bag End hobbit hole.

The sun began to rise and birds began to chirp as the world slowly awoke. Elysia continued to walk on the man road with quick and purposeful strides.

Then she caught that old sing-song voice. It was a voice she has listened to for centuries upon centuries. If she were in her dragon form, her tail would have twitched like a cat and her ears and horns would be acute and perked.

"The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone…"

_Now there was a voice for sore ears..._ She mused in delight as she began to walk at a more leisurely pace, waiting in excitement for the horse and cart to catch up to her on the road.

"Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say."

The voice gradually grew louder, as did the sound of the horse's clopping feet and the creak of the old wooden cart. Eventually, a cheerily trotting horse came into her peripheral view, as did the hint of telltale gray.

"Such a curious sight to see a sky loving drake walk a trivial distance." The old voice mused. "If you're going to take a leisurely stroll to enjoy the greenery of the Shire, I suggest you do it at a later time than this foggy morn."

"Aye… Then will you be willing to give the needlessly strolling lass a little lift?" She inquired in a modulate voice.

"Will I be willing? And when you mean by 'little' you mean a few miles? Or would you prefer a complete ride to Bad End, and if that's the case, the lift is by no means little."

Elysia released a small chuckle and finally turned her head, lowering her hood. The Istari appeared the same as always after so many centuries.

"Good to see you to, Mithrandir." Without further ado, she stepped onto the seat beside the old gray wizard and sat comfortably.

"To you as well, my dear girl." Gandalf smiled and sped his horse forward. The silence did not last long as Gandalf ceased his songs.

"I am curious… Why did you land farther from the Shire than usual?" The wizard asked.

Elysia's lips quirked. "A flock of Crebain interrupted my usual route."

Gandalf whipped his head so abruptly for an old man. His pale eyes sharp and piercing at this news.

"Have they spotted you?"

Elysia scoffed. "Of course not, Gandalf. You know I who am."

"Hmph, a troublesome apprentice that seemed to tangle herself in webs of trouble rivaling that of a particular hobbit?" Gandalf snidely remarked.

"You just won't let go of that _one_ incident." Elysia deadpanned.

"My back was aching for a solid week because that _one_ incident." He grumbled. "But now do enlighten me on your recent journey. What news do you bring from the scaly folk?"

A small frown made its way to her face. "One of my own settled in deep within Fangorn has warned me that there is something foul-"

"The times are growing darker, of course-"

"It is focusing around your White Wizard, Mithrandir." Elysia snapped, cutting off Gandalf's remark.

"Saruman?" Gandalf frowned. "That's highly unlikely." Saruman was the head of the White Council and the wisest and strongest of the Istari and to assume evil festered around him was a dreadful assumption. But then again… dragon hunches were uncannily accurate.

Elysia did not argue her claim further and remained in silence until Gandalf continued,

"And any signs of Gollum?"

"No… The creature is hidden better than those shellfish in the water's abyss." A sigh escaped her nose, causing gray eyes to glance at her quickly but mindfully.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Enough of this gloomy talk. You must be tired… In a hurry to return to the Shire?"

"You know I wouldn't miss this event for anything." the dragon smirked.

Eventually the fog dissipated and Elysia readjusted her hood to shield her eyes before basking in the warm sun.

"How is Bilbo?" Gandalf inquired.

Elysia simply jerked her head lazily to the side.

"Ask him."

There was a rustle in the brush and a familiar young hobbit burst into the clearing near the road. For once, Frodo Baggins was staring down Gandalf and Elysia.

"You're late." His arms were folded and his face was masked in a look of utmost seriousness.

Elysia remained silent and continued to bask lazily while Gandalf began to play along with their dear hobbit.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins… Nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to." Gandalf stated in severity. The two males gazed at each other unwaveringly until Gandalf gestured to the basking dragon by his side.

"Can't say the same for dragons."

"Hn." Elysia's plain grunt was the only thing that came from under the hood. The dragon listened as the two men were unable to maintain bearing. Laughter burst between them with a silent dragon in the middle. Then Frodo gave a leap.

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!"

If it weren't for Elysia's quick and steadfast reflexes, Frodo would have tackled her and fallen off the carriage. Fortunately for him, a female dragon was no fragile maiden. She caught Frodo quickly and gently, and Frodo, who always had faith in his dragon friend's abilities, immediately hugged both Gandalf and her. Gandalf chuckled and returned the affectionate embrace, secretly warmed greatly at Elysia's and Frodo's small interaction. It spoke great volumes of her protectiveness and his faith in her.

"You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday did you?" Gandalf's pale eyes twinkled with mirth as he set Frodo down onto Elysia's lap. The dragon paid no heed and simply buckled Frodo to her toned frame with her arms.

The horse continued to trot while the three rode into the shire at a peaceful pace. The scent of pipe weed filled the air as the old wizard began smoke while he inquired Frodo about their dear old Bilbo.

"So how is the old rascal?" Gandalf asked Frodo. "I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence."

"You know Bilbo. He's got the whole place in an uproar."

"Oh well, that should please him." Gandalf commented.

"Half the Shire is invited." Frodo exclaimed and Elysia added in, "The rest of them are turning up anyways." They chuckled at this fact. Gandalf released a huff of smoke, shaking his head.

Elysia was content to listen while Frodo enlightened Gandalf about Bilbo.

"Bilbo has been acting a bit odd lately… More than usual." There was a weight behind those words. Frodo seemed a little anxious.

"He's taken to locking himself in the study. He spends hours and hours pouring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking… You've noticed too, Elly?"

"Of course. Little happens in Bag End that is beyond my notice, little one." Elysia stated. "Perhaps he is restless and desires another adventure. Doesn't seem very hobbit-like, but it seems like something Bilbo would do."

Frodo broke from his dazed gaze and his blue eyes focused on Gandalf with a bit of a suspicious edge. The gray Istari adverted his eyes innocently, causing Frodo's lips to curl up.

"Alright then, keep your secrets."

Gandalf attempted continue his feigned innocence. It didn't fool any of them.

"But I know you have something to do with it." Frodo said in certainty. Gandalf let out an indecipherable mumble.

Frodo smiled. "Before you came along, we Baggins were very well thought of." He explained. "Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected."

Gandalf pulled his pipe from his mouth. "If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved."

Elysia gave a loud snort. Gandalf pointedly ignored her while Frodo chuckled.

"All I did was…" Gandalf continued. "Give your uncle a little nudge out of the door.

Another snort.

Frodo laughed. "Whatever you did, you've been officially labeled a disturber of the peace."

The sound of children caught Elysia's attention. They squealed at the sight of the familiar pointy wizard hat and rushed towards the carriage with hopeful cheers. As Elysia expected, Gandalf eventually released a small burst of one of his wonderful fireworks.

"Did you bring the one I've designed." Elysia inquired. In her time accompanying Gandalf, she partook in the art of pyrotechnics.

"It's just the thing Bilbo would love to have in his party." Gandalf praised as assurance to him bringing the particular fiery artwork. Frodo stood up and looked back to Gandalf. It was time for him to depart.

"Gandalf, I'm glad you're back." Frodo's sincerity always made Elysia feel a warm pride and even more fondness for him.

Gandalf seemed to be feeling the same. His twinkling eyes were warm.

"So am I, dear boy!" He said as Frodo leapt off of Elysia's lap and onto the plush grass. Elysia smiled and stared at Frodo's retreating figure until he was out of sight within the trees.

"You've grown very fond of him, haven't you."

"How could I not, Mithrandir?" Elysia mused as she glanced at the wizard before she strayed her stormy eyes into a dazed distance. "It nice to find some comfort like this and like Frodo after everything that happened."

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed.

"But I do agree with Frodo upon the matter of Bilbo… There's something off about the Baggins as of late. It makes my scales itch." Her statement troubled Gandalf into silence as they made their way to Bag End.

While Elysia was content to go in like she did every day she returned from one of her trips, Gandalf knocked on the ground green door.

The grumpy voice of Bilbo made them crack a smile.

"No thank you! We don't want anymore visitors, well wishers, or distant relations!"

Elysia released a snort and simply opened the door. "What about very old friend?" She inquired as she pulled off her straps and placed Faersing and Silvindr next to their designated spot next to Bilbo's trunk. The place seemed messier than usual.

"Oh Elly! It's only you-"

"It's not only me, Bilbo." Elysia corrected.

And on cue, the gray Istari entered the pleasant abode of Bag End. Bilbo was taken aback by the sight.

"Gandalf…?" He whispered.

Gandalf smiled wider. "Bilbo Baggins…"

The Istari was a little startled by Bilbo's youthful appearance at the old age of 111. He hadn't been the only one. In Elysia's stay with the Baggins, she noticed that the hobbit was more resilient than others of his kind at the aging nature of time. But she wasn't complaining. To have dear Bilbo have continuous good health must be a blessing of the Valar—a blessing that perhaps was the reason for that itchy sensation of something amiss in Bag End.

While Elysia went off to raid the food storage, Gandalf observed the pleasant hobbit hole—and as expected, bumped into a few obstacles like the chandelier and the wooden beam. It has changed little since he last visited, but it wasn't change that he sought. He perused the shelves and smiled warmly at the wooden carvings decorating a particular shelf. There were thirteen dwarves, a wizard, a hobbit, and a small carving of a dragon perched there. To strangers, it would be a carving of the desolate dragon, but Gandalf knew far better than just some stranger. The dragon was a part of their company on that quest... The warmth in his heart grew as he noticed other signs of Elysia and her content stay in Bag End.

Sketches and paintings decorated the wall, one in particular he admired for both its frame and photo. Frodo in his tweens was sitting next to Bilbo looking happy as can be in the fields of the Shire. The marvelous sketch was framed elaborately with lacquered wood that had been carved to have a dragon decorating the borders with immaculate detail to the scales.

While Elysia, changed into her usual comfortable outfit, began devouring a pile of bread, cheese, salted pork, and just about anything else she could grab in the storage, Bilbo fussed over his wizard guest.  
Elysia's ear twitched and she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm.

"The Sackville Baggins are coming." She notified nonchalantly as she chewed on her bread and stuffed cheese into her mouth. Bilbo began to choke and as warned, somebody was furiously rapping at the door.

"Shall I do what I did last time and sharpen my dagger while you open the door?" Elysia suggested as she ripped a piece of her salted pork and plopped it into her mouth. Gandalf quirked an eyebrow while Bilbo simply huffed.

"No… I'm not at home." He hissed. "Those Sackville Baggins… They're after the house! They've never forgiven me for living this long! I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moments peace!"

"If you want, I can even casually show off Faersing for you. The sword usually drives off anyone away." Elysia continued to suggest mildly.

Bilbo smiled weakly at the dragon. "No, but thank you for offering my dear." He then frowned a little at her large plate of food.

"Are you sure you want to eat that much? You might spoil your appetite for the feast."

Elysia gave him a look and continued to eat. Gandalf chuckled while Bilbo huffed and smiled.

"Right… Dragon's appetite. What am I even saying?"

He heaved another sigh and lifted the kettle from its place near the fire. Elysia took this as her cue to leave. It was time to let these two fellows catch up with each other and for Bilbo to confide with Gandalf in his leaving of Bag End to Frodo.

"I'll leave you fellows to sort things out and smoke with each other." She grabbed the loaf of bread to go, along with an apple, and held the slab of cured meat in her mouth before departing. Bilbo chuckled as she left them and poured tea for Gandalf. The wizard and old hobbit stared at her leave.

"It's hard to believe she's seen so much and lived much longer than me." Bilbo mused.

"She's still young by draconian standards." Gandalf explained as he sipped his tea.

000

Music, laughter, and chatter filled the night air in Hobbiton. Then the occasional marvelous eruption of fireworks crackled and lit up the sky in the most marvelous of designs and colors. Elysia was content with aiding Gandalf in his pyrotechnics, but the Istari ushered her to enjoy the party. She was donned in her rarely worn feminine attire for the special occasion; a dress of light blue material over a white poufy long sleeved tunic. The hem was trimmed just above her ankles, revealing her bare hairless slender feet. It was a simple dress, but little was needed to make Elysia appear nice. Her hair fell loosely around her in its usual glossy curls. Many males and even females of Hobbiton admired her but from afar; for she still held that intimidating grace in her presence.

Frodo's eyes brightened at the lovely sight of his beloved friend and hastily made room for her to sit on the bench with him. Elysia sat and smiled as she spotted Sam flushed madly while he danced with Rosie Cotton. Both Frodo and Elysia knew Sam always fancied the female with her curly golden hair and radiant smile.

Then Frodo leapt to his feet and turned to Elysia with that spark in his eyes.

"Come on, Elly! Let's dance!" He had witnessed Elysia dance a few times, and in those seldom moments she revealed she was quite adept at the activity.

"Little one, I don't think-" Her reluctance began to melt under Frodo's angelic pleading expression—this rascal of a hobbit was probably the first ever able to diminish a dragon's will with a mere stare.

She released an exasperated sigh of defeat. Frodo laughed as he tugged her to the dancing crowd.

Gandalf smiled as he unleashed a sparkling flock of butterflies from his fireworks, focused on the maiden that quite literally stood out from the tiny crowd. His eyes twinkled merrily in observing the dragon move light on her feet to the rhythm of the cheerful music. She spun and managed to dance with her smaller partner in a way that did not appear foolish or tedious, and it endeared the old wizard's heart.

Eventually, he took a break from his fireworks and joined in the dance. Elysia's eyes widened in surprise and a delightful peal of laughter escaped her. Frodo giggled and backed away, allowing Elysia to have a dance partner that complimented more with her height. As the two old beings danced, Frodo marveled and found the two to be fascinating… Their dance was not at all romantic or intense. In fact, Gandalf looked rather clumsy in comparison to Elysia's smooth movements, but there was a certain connecting aura between them. And indeed there should be a bond, for Elysia was Gandalf's apprentice after all.

While they enjoyed the party, mischief was brewing within. The devious pair was on the move, sneaking into the wagonload of fireworks. Pippin dug into the many different shapes and sizes of pyrotechnics while Merry urged him to hurry. He picked up a particularly big and red dragon head shaped firework, making Merry gasp in delight. The design itself was promising something fantastic and explosive.

"Sackville Baggins at your six, Bilbo." Elysia whispered into the said hobbits ear. Frodo and Bilbo immediately began to worm through the crowd to hide from their unpleasant relatives while Elysia simply stood and ate a delectable tart. Bilbo and Frodo hid in her peripheral, glued to the wall of a tent as the accursed relatives came into view. There was no sign of Bilbo, but that odd lady friend of his was here so perhaps he was too. The grumpy looking pair seemed to size up the female, nudging each other to take the gamble and interact with the intimidating woman.

Then Elysia tilted her head and side looked at them with piercingly unfathomable eyes. They seemed to shrink down even further as a heavy and suffocating aura permeated from Elly Walkins.

"Do you want something?" Her voice was toneless. It gave nothing away.

At the sound of her voice, the male seemed to shrink even further. His wife then hastily shook her head and tugged her husband away. Hopefully Bilbo was elsewhere and not with thisodd being.

Frodo chuckled as he stepped out of his hiding place and wrapped an arm around Elysia.

"That was better than that time you polished Silvindr in front of them." He laughed.

Elysia quirked her brow and smirked playfully. "Never trifle with a drake."

Bilbo smiled at the two and sighed. Indeed, his heir to Bag End was in good, strong hands.

A loud racketing sizzle of fireworks being lit caught Elysia's attention. She whipped her head to the sky and blinked at the odd sight. Was her eyes playing tricks on her or did that flaming missile snag a tent? Gandalf never made such an obvious mistake. Then her eyes narrowed in disbelief as she frowned at the firework. It looked familiar.

_That's my handiwork. The one I've been working on… Gandalf promised me I would be the one to light it, so why-…._

Eventhough she wasn't in her dragon form, she growled.

Hobbits began to rush frantically away from the firework as it morphed into the shape of a dragon. Frodo had a protective arm around Bilbo and crouched behind the skirt of his dragon.

Elysia didn't even flinch as the dragon shaped sparks flew past her. She was seething.

Her irritation slightly lessened as her handiwork erupted in a massive show of orange sparks just above the hilltops. The hobbits marveled at the beautiful sight while the true dragon quietly went to the source of her irritation.

Merry and Pippin, singed and covered in soot stood in proud awe at their mischievous deed.

"That was good." Merry said and Pippin agreed.

"Let's get another one." The Took suggested.

Then he felt a chill up his spine and suddenly, something snagged their collars in an unyielding grip. The hobbits found themselves lifted off the ground and at eye level with a pair of fierce eyes that warned of an oncoming storm.

"Merriadoc Brandybuck… And Peregrin Took." Her monotonous voice promised pain and fear.

"H-heeeey Elly…" Merry smiled sheepishly while Pippin bit his lip and trembled. Out of all the folks of the Shire that admonished their antics and disciplined them, Elysia Walkins was the one they feared the most, even more than Farmer Maggot when he raged with that scythe of his.

When Elysia said nothing but kept them in the air, Merry stammered on.

"W-wasn't that firework r-really something?"

Elysia's piercing gaze focused on Merry, causing him to whimper and shrink.

"Yes… It was really something… In fact… It was my handiwork."

_Oh…._ If only they had known…

Merry's face paled under the layer of soot while Pippin finally spoke.

"W-well… Your handiwork is e-excellent." He stammered the praise.

They yelped as Elysia dropped them ungraciously to the ground. There was no time to flee as her fingers immediately pinched their cheeks and yanked them painfully. What was the punishment this time? Was she going to hang them on a tree again?

It was much worse. They ended up cleaning the high piling stack of dishes at the party, and the worse part that nearly drove Pippin to tears was… They couldn't have a slice of that wonderful cake.

...

The folks waited upon Bilbo for his birthday speech. Elysia sat with Frodo near the front corner to prevent herself from being an obstacle for the smaller folks. Bilbo called out the hobbit families in the crowd and Elysia chuckled at his riddling remark after.

That was when she sensed it… Or rather heard it.

Dark whispers… indecipherable but foreboding… She unknowingly tuned out of Bilbo's voice as these whispers echoed around her. She didn't hear Bilbo as he stuttered and hesitated.

The whispers became fiercer as Bilbo pulled something out of his pocket. Elysia gritted her teeth and tried to shake the voices away.

"I regret to announce that this is the end… I'm going now… I bid you all a very fond farewell… goodbye."

Bilbo Baggins then vanished from sight into thin air.

But what disturbed Elysia was the whispering darkness. She discerned its last words.

_"-burzum-ishi krimpatul…"_

Frodo jerked at the sound of a loud crack next to Elysia. Peering down, he frowned at the sight. Elysia had been gripping her stool so hard that she splintered the edge and took a chunk from the wood.

Looking at her face, he was taken aback by the evident unease in those widened gray blue eyes. It was an alien thing to witness Elysia appear so disturbed, almost frightened. The sight was ill and discomforting. As odd and curious as Bilbo's sudden departure from the party was; he was more concerned with the state of his dragon friend.

"Elly… You alright?" He asked uncertainly.

The dragon lady remained as still as a statue. Frodo bit his lip nervously and grabbed her hand in his. "Elly?"

At the sound of his voice, Elysia finally snapped back into reality. She twitched and blinked out her daze before turning to Frodo.

"What? Oh… Yes… I'm fine, Frodo." She hastily assured.

Frodo remained unconvinced and would not let go of her hand. "You're a lousy liar, Elly. Come, maybe a little food and ale will do you some good."

Elysia was too deep in her thoughts to argue as Frodo led her to the dining tables. He piled her plate with food and managed to grab a large slice of cake to satisfy the dragon's sweet tooth. Placing the food and the ale before her, he sat and leaned against her arm worriedly.

"Elly… You're worrying me."

The sound of his voice, soft, uncertain, and concerned had caught her attention. Elysia gazed down at Frodo and softened at his worry filled blue eyes.

"Forgive me, little one… I'm just a little shaken by your old uncle's uncanny display of magic." She admitted. Though, to say a little was an understatement. There was something very odd about whatever spell, trick, illusion, or object Bilbo used; odd and very _wrong._

His eyes requested her to elaborate and Elysia smiled as she began to nibble on a piece of sourdough bread.

"To vanish into thin air… or turn invisible… That is not an easy feat of magic, little one. Not easy at all…."

Frodo could only shrug. "Bilbo has always been odd."

"Yes… How odd indeed." Elysia mused as Frodo began to eat his own plate of food.

Pippin and Merry sat across from him looking a bit dejected with their own plate—piled high with food but not with a single morsel of the wonderful cake… Elysia huffed and stabbed her fork into her roasted pork. Without sparing the mischievous pair a glance, she pushed her large cake portion towards them. Frodo smiled into his meal while Pippin and Merry looked positively ecstatic.

At his inquisitive and smiling glance, Elysia simply shrugged.

"Today is meant for joy… I'll leave them to weep in stone cold misery on another day."

Her warning had Merry gulping and Pippin choking on his food.

Frodo laughed and in his heart, his adoration for the dragon grew. Behind her fearsome exterior, Frodo found her to be extremely kind.

Elysia kept Frodo close to her tonight. They departed from the party, Frodo in merry spirits while Elysia was wrought with some unspoken tension.

"Bilbo? Bilbo!" Frodo burst through the door with Elysia in tow. She hesitated before stepping into the hobbit hole, a first time in decades.

Something wasn't right this time. Something was looming over Bag End, and she didn't appreciate how it grated against her scales.

Her little one then spotted something golden on the floor. It was a ring. He picked it up curiously before looking around the house. Gandalf was mumbling to himself near the fire, smoking his pipe.

"It seems as though you are now the new Master of Bag End, little one." Elysia said softly as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

Frodo hesitated as he wrapped his mind around the realization that his beloved uncle left. "He talked for so long about leaving… I didn't think he'd actually do it." The peculiar gold band resting in his palm, he walked up to Gandalf.

"Gandalf?"

The old wizard turned and peered at the ring in deep thought; then smiled a smile that did not reach his pale eyes.

"Bilbo's ring… He's left you Bag End…" In his outstretched hand was an envelope. Frodo hesitantly let the gold ring drop into the paper pocket. Gandalf hastily sealed the ring with a wax seal. Something was definitely off… Was it really necessary to seal the envelope? Elysia frowned and her sharp eyes skewered the wizard, who pointedly ignored them.

"Keep it somewhere out of sight."

His whisper seemed to be directed more to Elysia than to Frodo. With those enigmatic words, Gandalf immediately began to prepare his own departure. He rushed for his staff and hat, causing much confusion in Frodo.

"Where are you going?"

"There are some things that I must see to." Gandalf's reply was curt and riddled as always.

"What things?"

"Questions…Questions that need answering."

Frodo was dismayed. "But you've only just arrived! I don't understand."

Gandalf stopped at the door and turned to the hobbit.

"… Neither do I…" He muttered. He finally locked eyes with Elysia and they both seemed to share some silent words through each other's penetrating gazes. Then the old wizard leaned forward and rested an aged hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"Keep it secret… Keep it safe."

At Gandalf's sudden departure, Frodo appeared a little dejected and confused. He turned to Elysia.

"Are you going to leave too?" He asked a little nervously.

Elysia shook her head and smiled. "No, my little one… Close the door. You're letting the warmth out." While Elysia hadn't the slightest idea of what exactly was going on, she trusted her teacher with her life.

"My trip has made me tired… Care to share a bed, little one?" Both took great comfort at the idea, reminiscing back to Frodo's younger years when he slept in Elysia's warm embrace when dreams were bad, storms were loud, and nights were lonely. For Elysia, today had unnerved her scales. She felt the need to keep Frodo a bit closer to her.

Frodo quickly hid the envelope deep in the trunk next to Faersing and Silvindr. Soon, Bag End was silent and dark while a hobbit nestled in the large bed with his beloved dragon friend.  
It was a truly odd thought if one thought about it; a hobbit sleeping in a dragon's nest with the dragon. Frodo thought nothing of it except comfort and content. For even when Elysia did not need to sleep with that dragon stamina of hers, she still tucked in Frodo and looked after him through the night when he was a child.

With Elysia he was never cold. Perhaps it was a dragon thing, but she was always literally warmer than any other being he met. Elysia's taller frame curled protectively around Frodo like a feline around kitten. As he lied there, the excitement and energy spent on the evening brought a wave of tiredness to him.

"May the stars watch over you, little one. Pleasant dreams." Her soothing voice and warmth lulled Frodo to a peaceful sleep. Elysia soon did the same, but she kept her senses alert to the slightest off sound.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Unexpected

Foul black clouds poisoned the sky. Thunder clapped and storms clouds of suffocating ash and poison brewed above the lands of Sauron's domain. The rumbling thunder and sudden violent turn of volcanic activity in Mount Doom was like a heartbeat quickening in excitement or fear.

Not far from the hellish dungeons of Barad-dur, a fortress of death and darkness began to stir. Every rock, stone, and grain of dirt screamed of blood chilling evil in Minas Morgul. The green light illuminating the citadel of dark sorcery brought no comfort as light usually would and only emphasized the great terror and evil lurking within its terrifying walls. The gates groaned like miserable souls as they were opened, and unleashed from the jaws of the entrance were nine black riders.

Tall, terrifying, and cloaked in shadow and death, the nine forced their black steeds to move fast and relentlessly. Their master has brought upon a task, and as the dark lord's faithful servants, they shall see that the task is fulfilled, even if they must flood the soil in blood and death.

000

The hobbits were as festive and fun as always as they delved in their entertainment. Elysia listened in silent content as Merry and Pippin sang and danced on top of a table in the Green Dragon with Frodo dancing around them. Despite his beloved uncle's sudden departure, Frodo reveled in becoming an official adult and the master of Bag End. Elysia smiled as Frodo relished the newfound freedom. An adult Frodo may be considered, but to Elysia he was still her little one.

The older hobbits smoked their pipe weed and complained of the strange folk crossing the Shire. Elysia smiled. As the years passed, the hobbits have adjusted to having her—a strange outsider herself—residing in Hobbiton, but some things just never changed with the Halflings.

They complained of dwarves crossing and more unpleasant creatures in the mountains. Elysia eyes became dangerously lidded at the mention of goblins and war. So... even the hobbits were noticing the growing shadow in Middle Earth. Elysia was tempted to take a short trip to those rumored mountains infested with goblins too near to the Shire for her liking; she would investigate and most probably commit a goblin massacre if the numbers were in her favor.

As Frodo came and cheerfully offered ale to the table where the gossip brewed, the smoking hobbits spotted a familiar outsider with her own tankard of ale. She sat in her usual cool mode, legs crossed and back against the table in lazy grace, silent as a statue. The flame light of the candles and fireplace made her stormy eyes glitter with a cryptic edge while the lidded manner in which she stared vacantly made the hobbits squirm in minor unease. They thought they caused her demeanor. Perhaps she felt offended at hearing them talk of strange folk so disdainfully.

"Er… I mean… Not _all _outsiders are trouble…" One hobbit quickly corrected his previous words. Frodo noticed them glance uneasily at Elysia's lonesome figure and chuckled with a small smile. Elysia's silvered gaze whipped to them, but her head remained unmoving. A hobbit even flinched a little, but Sam and Frodo knew better. They realized it was just Elysia's nature to seem so… unapproachable in demeanor at times. But time and time again, Elysia had proven to them to be rather harmless.

Frodo's smile did not waver as he lifted his tankard and gestured to Elysia. The female dragon smirked and slightly raised her tankard before she quietly drained her tankard. Frodo turned back to the hobbits and rolled his eyes.

"Oh come now, Elysia is no outsider at this point. She resided in Bag End before I was born."

One hobbit grumbled and another agreed with the Bag End master. "Her company is more peaceful than Gandalf's at least. You don't hear her off meddling and creating havoc and odd stories. Although, she still makes the hairs on my feet stand on end sometimes." he muttered.

Frodo fought the urge to giggle and merely nodded, drinking his ale. If only they knew of the adventures Elysia went through.

Elysia slowed her pace as she walked with Sam and Frodo in the night. Frodo comforted Sam and attempted to boost his confidence to court Rosie Cotton. Elysia smirked at their conversation. She grew fond of Frodo's gardener enough to consent in Frodo's request to give the Loivissa to Sam, for the gardener seemed to marvel the plant more than Frodo. In order to keep a stout place in Rosie's heart, Sam presented the flower to Rosie as a wooing gift, delighting the woman and putting him in her favor against his many competitors for her hand.

Samwise Gamgee had always admired Elysia, though not romantically for his heart belonged to the barmaid of the Green Dragon. His admiration was akin to great respect and curiosity. Because of her generosity, he managed to bring a lovely extra sparkle in Rosie Cotton's mesmerizing eyes. He always greeted her mornings earnestly and bid her fair well with sincerity.

They parted ways as the path to Bag End began to near. Sam bid them good night and a little tipsy he stumbled and walked unevenly on his hairy feet.

A warm hand suddenly gripped Frodo's shoulder. Elysia bent low near his ear and whispered.

"Stay close to me… Someone's in the house."

The hobbit frowned and obeyed. Who would barge into Bag End? Hard to believe anyone in the Shire would have the audacity to break in, considering that many feared the possible wrath of Elly Walkins.

As if Elysia read his mind, she spoke in a low and hard to hear voice. "It's no local from the shire."

They opened the round green door of the Baggins estate and Elysia took a few sniffs. There was the slightest scent of a horse, some dirt, and most prominently sweat and anxiety, and….

_Ah…_

She knew this scent anywhere and stopped in her tracks. Frodo looked around the house in nervous wonder. The window was open and a loose breeze caused loose papers to float free before falling to the floor eerily.

"Elly, who-" Frodo released a gasp as a hand smacked down hard on his shoulder and spun him around. Elysia didn't bother to turn but she spoke with a sharp edge.

"Mithrandir… What is it?" Something has greatly unnerved the Istari. That did not sit well with the dragon.

Gandalf did not answer, instead he responded with a question aimed at Frodo. "Is it secret? Is it safe?" He looked tired and old—older than usual—as sweat beaded his forehead and matted his gray hairs to his face.

Gandalf remained on high alert as Frodo shuffled through the trunk. Elysia walked to the fireplace and tossed some firewood into the hearth. Without bothering to grab the tinderbox, she simply stretched her neck, inhaled with a small hiss, and spat or "fire spat" as Frodo and Bilbo liked to call it. A small bullet of fiery white blue struck the wood and ignited a warm flame that spread within a few heartbeats. Soon the fire was roaring.

Frodo yanked out the envelope from the trunk, and without hesitation the wizard snatched it. Frodo voiced his surprise as Gandalf tossed it into the fire.

"What are you doing?"

Elysia spotted the golden gleam of the finger accessory as the paper unfurled in the flame. The ring's gleam was admirable, but something about it made Elysia's skin rise with gooseflesh. With a pair of tongs, Gandalf plucked the gold band.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo… It's quite cool."

As soon as the ring landed in the hobbit's palm, Elysia twitched involuntarily.

Mithrandir's next question perplexed her.

"What can you see?"

A small frown escaped her usually stoic features. What else was there to see but gold? Was there something that they were supposed to see or something only Frodo was supposed to see?

"Can you see anything?" Gandalf pressed as he turned away and put his hands on his hips, wary and deep in thought.

After a suspenseful pause, Frodo could only shrug as he rotated the ring with his fingers.

"… Nothing… There's nothing."

The gray wizard's tension began to loosen. Elysia's frown widened and her brow quirked, casting the old Istari a questioning glare. He was acting odder than usual, like a riddle within a riddle.

"Wait."

Frodo's voice made the two old beings freeze. Elysia's ear twitched and her head gave a slight jerk as she heard the eerie whispers echoed around them again. Gandalf felt dread boil with him like a rising volcano.

"There are markings." Frodo frowned at the flame lit foreign calligraphy unveiled from the golden surface. "It's some form of elvish… I can't read it."

Elysia turned and gazed at Frodo as the whispers hushed down. Her lungs stopped functioning at the sight of the bright fire hued glyphs shining from the golden band.

_It can't be… How in the skies did-…?_

"There are few who can." She barely registered Gandalf's grave voice and he confirmed her terrifying realization.

"The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

Frodo turned to Gandalf. "Mordor?" The foulest, most sinister place in Middle Earth?

"In the Common Tongue it says;

One ring to rule them all.

One ring to find them.

One ring to bring them all.

And in the darkness, binds them."

She finally found the Forsworn Ring. After years and years of searching for the ring of Sauron's power and possible bane, it was right here in the Shire… right here in the hands of her little one. Now all the gaps began to fill; Bilbo's trick, the whispers, and the itching sensation in her scales…  
The One Ring capable of unfathomable evil and chaos was right under their noses.

Elysia was unable to contain her astonishment. She stared at Gandalf and then at Frodo with the Ring.  
"What in the blazes?!"

000

Her face was indecipherable. Stormy unfathomable eyes scrutinized the golden band centered on the wooden table of the dining room in Bag End. Frodo was preparing them tea while Gandalf smoked his pipe.

"This is the One Ring." He stated gravely. "Forged by the dark lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom, taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

Elysia's eyes became lidded. It brought great surprise and disbelief to her people at the news of Sauron's supposed defeat by the hands of the Free People, specifically man. Of course her people didn't rejoice. They became sardonic when they also heard of man's foolish choice to keep the ring as some kind of trophy. While dragons took trophies, they wanted none in this war. They wanted nothing of that foul Forsworn to exist even as a token of triumph after his heinous sins against their kind.

Frodo poured them tea. "Bilbo found it." He said. "In Gollum's cave."

"Unbelievable… though it explains a lot." Elysia muttered tonelessly, sipping her tea.

"Yes.. For 60 years, the Ring laid quiet in Bilbo's keeping." Gandalf whispered. "Prolonging his life, delaying old age…. But no longer… Evil is stirring in Morder. The Ring has awoken, it heard its master's call."

"But he was destroyed… Sauron was destroyed." Frodo said, disbelieved and determined.

A low growl escaped Elysia as the eerie whispers she heard before became more prominent. Frodo and Gandalf finally heard it as well.

"Wretched piece of metal." She cursed darkly. Frodo looked at her and almost flinched at the sharp slit quality that her pupils took.

Gandalf spared the dragon a sympathetic glance before he locked eyes with Frodo.

"No Frodo… The spirit of Sauron endured… His life force is bounded to the Ring and the Ring survived…" Gandalf's voice dripped with loathing and dread. "Sauron has returned."

Fear filled those blue pools. The darkness and misery of Sauron's reign were things so great that they became a legend.

"His orcs have multiplied… His fortress of Barad-dur is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this ring to cover all the lands in a second darkness."

As Gandalf continued, Elysia wandered into the dark depths of her mind. Memories-more appropriately—that long haunted her began to stir. Old wounds began to come forth. The smell of blood, the roars of pain and despair, the darkness, the soils soaked with dragon gore, the _fear_…

The death…

CRACK

Frodo and Gandalf jumped at the loud breaking sound. Pieces of broken clay clattered on the table. Elysia's grip on her cup had been so powerful that she shattered the glazed pottery. Gandalf said nothing but the sorrow was evident in his pale ancient eyes. Frodo, anxious at the hardened and haunted edge he had never seen before in those penetrating eyes, quickly gripped his beloved friend's upper arm. She was rigid and ashen.

"Elly?" He began to fear for his friend. His dear Elly never lost her composure like this… As a matter of fact, she never lost her composure at all.

Elysia would not look at him. She did not return his gaze with her usual warmth and assurance with comforting words spoken in that low modulate voice of hers.

Gandalf's eyes lingered on the disturbed dragon.

"It was dark times Frodo… Dark times…" He stated gravely."For those that had suffered firsthand experience of Sauron's malice, it was like an unending nightmare."

The dragon whipped Gandalf a seething glare.

"Mithrandir… Letta ilerneo abr pömnuria helar!" (Mithrandir… _**Stop speaking of my hells.**_)

Her words were harsh and curt, confusing Frodo. Elysia had explained the concept of the ancient tongue spoken by the dragons, and taught him a few words but not enough to comprehend her speech directed at the old gray wizard.

Gandalf seemed to understand. He only gave a grave nod before gesturing to Frodo with his pipe. "You are frightening your hobbit."

In Elysia's own time, Gandalf hoped she would enlighten Frodo on her past. From what he knew of what Frodo knew, Elysia had only detailed the young hobbit on the better instances, protecting Frodo from knowledge of her demons.

Elysia quickly masked her emotions and wrapped an arm around Frodo like a mother hawk with its chick. Frodo bit his lip, displeased that they were being vague with him.

"It's the Ring, isn't it?"

Elysia did not utter a word, confirming Frodo's worry. Determined, he stood up and grabbed the Ring. It must never be found, and it's obvious that it brings great discomfort to his friend.

"Alright then! We put it away, we keep it hidden, we'll never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they…" He waited for Gandalf or Elysia to assure him as he looked for a safe spot, but he was only met with a dreadful silence.

Turning slowly to the tall wizard, he stared into those sunken eyes.

"Do they, Gandalf?"

The wizard stared into those innocent and fearful eyes and forced his words. Each weighed heavily upon him and Elysia.

"There is one other, that knew that Bilbo had the Ring…."

The words were like a knife. Elysia's nails dragged along the hardwood surface of the table and stabbed into her palm as her fist clenched.

"I looked everywhere for the creature, Gollum… But the enemy found him first."

Elysia's jaws clenched as she listened to Gandalf's explanation. So that was where that wretched gremlin was. No wonder she could not track him. At all costs, she avoided the dark storm clouds of ash above the dark realm of Mordor. It was the one place she would never investigate.

"Shire… Baggins?" Frodo whispered. "But that would lead them hear!" He was terrified now.

Elysia felt awful guilt and despair beat her heart. All these years she tried hard to protect the Shire, but even a dragon had to face the facts that they were outmatched. Whatever horrors that the Forsworn would send to the Shire, she could not defend it alone. The Shire would burn, the green fields and the clear streams will be drenched in blood, and in the place of good food, passionate farming, warm shelter, brewing of ales, and smoking of pipe weed will be nothing but barren wastelands shrouded in darkness.

The hills of this place would become nothing more than grave mounds.

The laughter and cheer replaced by screams and despair.

The green consumed by black.

No more would things grow in the Shire… In the place of nurturing life will be nothing but death.

All because of this accursed Ring.

Frodo was not capable of imaging the horrors Elysia could, but the mere idea made him frantic. He turned to Gandalf and frantically held up the Ring.

"Take it Gandalf!" He demanded desperately. "Take it!"

Gandalf became equally uneasy. "No Frodo."

"You MUST take it!" He insisted.

"You cannot offer me this Ring!"

No he could not. For both Elysia and Gandalf could not imagine the horrible effects the Ring of Power would have on an Istari like Gandalf. Such evil would have detrimental effect on ancient beings like him and Elysia.

"But I'm giving it to you!" Frodo was desperate and confused. Why won't the wise wizard take it?

"Don't tempt me Frodo!" Gandalf snapped, gray eyes glassy and full of fear.

As Gandalf began to explain his reasons, the reality of it all slowly sank to Frodo. Comprehending Gandalf's imploring gaze as he agreed that the Ring must not remain in the Shire, Frodo swallowed hard and mustered some courage not unlike how Bilbo had done many times on his journey. Pride filled Elysia as the young hobbit closed his hand and held the Ring.

"What must I do?"

000

Elysia stood up and began to move with soundless haste. She entered her small room and all but ripped open her wardrobe while Gandalf quickly spoke to Frodo who began to pack as well.

Grabbing things she only needed, she tossed them onto her plush bed. A worn but still sturdy rucksack landed on the mattress, followed by only a few articles of clothing. Her scales and horns were telling her to be prepared for the worst and perhaps a very long, arduous, and dangerous journey. Rewrapping her chest bindings more securely, she pulled a dark blue tunic over her lissome frame before yanking on a pair of loose black trousers.

Female wanderers with weapons were stranger sights than males, and Elysia wanted to attract as little attention as possible. She then whipped around a hooded, sleeveless robe of equal hue to her tunic and quickly donned the outerwear. Its black edged hem went down to her knees, successfully concealing any femininity her bottom half might reveal. Wrapping the robe around her form just enough to pass as a male—albeit lanky male—and not rustle up to make too much noise when she moved, she wrapped a raven sash around her waist and tied it at her hip.

A leather belt came over the sash. The sash combined with the belt added to lessen noise when she moved, and the hip belt allowed her to hide a few set of small but dangerous throwing blades under a flap of leather. She strapped on leather shoulder pads and made sure the cross section on her torso did not give any obvious hint to her feminine breasts. Thin leather arm guards wrapped around her forearms. The thin material was meant less for protection and more for keeping the loose sleeves tucked from snagging on anything. Grabbing her sack, she hesitated when she spotted a certain item lying on her shelf. Elysia quickly made up her mind and plucked the item, shoving it into the bag. Now was not the time to hesitate.

She left her room to hear Gandalf brief Frodo.

"-at the inn of the Prancing Pony." Frodo listened intently to Gandalf's instructions as he attempted to pack as fast as he could.

"And the ring will be safe the-" He froze at the sight of Elysia. His eyes widened at her attire. The style of her clothing wasn't very different from her usual travel attire in that it consisted of dark and dull colors. Yet there was blatant dissimilarity that made this one stand out from the rest.

This time, Elysia not only looked ready for travel, she appeared ready to strike. The attire emphasized the fearsome edge that Elysia already had. It warned those that imposed a threat to keep back for there was a wrath that could be incurred; the wrath of a _dragon_.

Frodo was beginning to empathize and understand why the neighbors feared Elysia Walkins.

Gandalf noticed Frodo stopped listening to him and followed the hobbit's awed and somewhat nervous gaze to the female dragon as she began to strap Faersing to her back and Silvindr to her hip with a curved double edged dagger to compliment the falchion. Her wavy raven locks shadowed her stoic face, accentuating the fierce battle-ready countenance. Elysia noticed their scrutiny as she began to twist and tie her hair in a braid. Frowning and quirking a brow, she asked.

"What?"

Gandalf leaned on his staff with a thoughtful look. "I haven't seen you wear something like that since the Battle of the Five Armies. You look like a ranger under cloak and dagger, my dear dragon."

Elysia snorted at his comment. "Better that than looking like some elven damsel frolicking about with two swords. You know how wary the folks of Bree are, Mithrandir."

Tucking her braid in the pouch of her hood, she wrapped a long thin black cloth around her neck to be utilized as a face mask when needed.

Frodo managed to break out of his stupor and packed the last of the food items for their journey. Gandalf returned to a graver state, but the sight of Elysia ready and steadfast gave some relief and eased some of his tension.

"I must see the head of my order, he is both wise and powerful." His confidence made Elysia narrow her eyes. She fought the urge to snort, but Gandalf managed to catch her indignant reaction. Before he could chide or argue, Elysia simply remarked,

"Say whatever you like and defend that pompous old sorcerer, but I trust you more than him, however powerful and wise he may be."

Gandalf twisted his lip for a snide little look at the dragon before returning attention to Frodo.

"You'll have to leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name is not safe outside the Shire."

Frodo nodded, adjusting his jacket. Gandalf helped him put on his cloak and pack while Elysia left to gather a few more things for their journey. Gandalf handed him a walking stick.

"Travel only by day, and stay off the road." He warned.

"I can cut across countries Gandalf." Frodo assured as he pocketed the Ring. A sense of Déjà vu overwhelmed Gandalf as he recalled how Bilbo stood like that, albeit a bit frayed in the arduous journey, but looking as courageous and determined as Frodo was at the moment.

The gray Istari rested his hands on his hips and sighed with a nod.

"Hobbits truly are amazing creatures. You can learn all that there is to learn about their ways in a month, yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you."

Frodo returned the old man's smile. Their cheery moment was interrupted by a snap and rustle of the bushes just outside the window.

"Lay down." Gandalf hissed and Frodo immediately obeyed. The wizard held his staff and crouched as he crept towards the bush.

Just as he jabbed hard at the rustling bush, Elysia came in.

"Gandalf wai-… Oh nevermind." She simply crossed her arms and waited as Gandalf promptly grabbed the skulking culprit eavesdropping on them, and with force belied by his old appearance, he tossed a familiar chunky hobbit onto the table. Samwise Gamgee looked terrified as Gandalf began to yell at him.

As Gandalf interrogated the gardener, Elysia tilted her head.

"You hobbits are curious creatures." She muttered to Frodo. He glanced at her and she huffed.

"If I haven't lived amongst you little folk for all these years, it would take tedious amounts of effort to sense or track you. Curious, how those large hairy feet of yours are so nimble and quiet. Hobbits are such stealthy folk."

Frodo smiled. "Bilbo said that was why he was selected for the journey to Erebor."

"And ironically, he tended to get himself into quite troublesome situations. I leave him momentarily, and I find him trying to bargain with trolls." Elysia deadpanned before shoving her better pair boots that were up just below the knee. The thin but durable soles and layers of the boots weren't as clumpy as her usual footwear. Lacing the side up for a snug fit, Elysia Walkins stood up.

With an air of finality in her preparation, she reached back and pinched her hood, propping up and over her head. She then turned and under the shadow of the mysterious hood, Frodo found those piercing pale eyes gaze at him with familiar warmth.

"Are you dressed warm enough, little one? It's going to rain at some point…."

000

"Come along, Samwise! Keep up." Gandalf was most impatient and grumpy as they travelled through the misty fields at the chilly early morn of the Shire. Frodo and Elysia walked behind the wizard and his brown steed while a few paces behind, a nervous gardener followed.

Elysia appeared to be stoically calm as she stared forward with a lidded gaze, but as a matter of fact, she was inwardly wincing and fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation at the ruckus Sam made in his haste to do as he was told and keep up. His pack jostled with pots and pans clanging against a large hastily filled pack.

As to why the hobbit would need to bring-what Elysia deemed to be—a preposterously large assortment of things, the dragon had naught the slightest of a clue. She was able to sniff out and see few of the many items Sam carried: sausages, a blanket, bread, spices—now why in the skies did this hobbit carry so many spices?—, some dried meat, cooking item, cooking item, cooking item, and those pots and pans that made an unbearable racket. It was like Samwise Gamgee was prepared for a picnic.

They waded through the thick fields of flowering vegetation. Gandalf warned them of the dangers lurking in every corner.

"Be careful… The enemy has many spies… Birds… Beasts." He stopped and scanned the perimeter with those sage eyes before focusing upon the young master of Bag End.

"Is it safe?"

Frodo put a hand over his pocket for assurance, feeling the hard lump of the golden bang through the cloth. Gandalf bent down to eye level with Frodo.

"Never put it on, for the agents of the dark lord will be drawn to its power and to some of us around you, its power has a poisonously crippling risk." Frodo knew whom Gandalf spoke of, and he was determined not to put his dragon companion in peril.

"Remember… The Ring is trying to get back to its master." Gandalf whispered. "It _wants_ to be found." He gave the hobbit a pat on the shoulder before directing his attention to Elysia. Within two short strides, he was shoulder to shoulder with his old apprentice.

"You must take extra precautions to keep your identity concealed." He whispered fiercely. "Unless the need for it is ultimately dire and even then… You _must_ avoid reverting to your draconian form… With the Ring so close in proximity and the activity rising within Morder, I fear for your safety, my dear."

"And I for yours, Gandalf…." She turned and gazed at him long and hard. "I shall heed your warning as I always have, but in return I beseech you to heed mine… My kinsman senses something foul festering in Isengard… Keep your staff ready and Glamdring sharp… For I do not know if it is the wizard that irks me or the depressing view of that black tower of his, but _something… something _isn't right there."

The wizard hesitated briefly, assessing the unwavering woman that only reached up to his shoulders but no less formidable in that height. Alas, time was short so his eyes crinkled and he smiled sadly and simply rested a gnarled hand on her shoulder.

"It pains me to force you to leave the Shire like this… You've even managed snag a name here, Elly Walkins."

"Yes… I am ever so fond of that pun of a name." She mused half-heartedly. They named her Walkins because she quite literally "walked in" to the Shire, and the hobbits thought it was a clever name even more so because of the BaggINS she resided with.

"May good fortune rule over you, my dear Brightscales." Gandalf said earnestly.

"And may the stars watch over you, my old Ebrithil. (Master)"

They gazed at Gandalf's retreating figure as he urged his horse to gallop with haste. Eventually the dragon and the two hobbits were left to their own devises. While Frodo nervously scanned his surroundings, Elysia remained calm.

"Come, little one… Sam… We must make haste."

...

Frodo and Sam struggled a bit to keep up with Elysia's relentlessly quick and long strides. They traversed the great fields of the Shire, and Elysia took one last good long look at her surroundings for she had the feeling she wouldn't be back here any time soon. This place gave her a dearly cherished peace… A part of her longed to make the children laugh one last time and to give a little warning to the farmers of a downpour soon to come.

They crossed the line from the golden wheat fields to the tall green corn crops. Sam stopped at the line with a thoughtful and rather sullen look.

"This is it."

Elysia and Frodo turned.

"This is what, Sam?" Frodo inquired.

"If I take one more step…" Sam looked up at the two travelers looking more at ease than he did. Frodo had a purposeful walk while Elysia took her strides as if wandering far from the Shire was a daily thing—which wasn't all that off from the truth…

"It'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been." He finished.

Frodo empathized more than Elysia who simply took on a patient look under the hood. The master of Bag End encouraged his gardener to move forward and take that single step.

"Come on, Sam." He wrapped and arm around the hobbit. "Remember what Bilbo used to say."

Elysia began to reminisce of her times with his uncle. She lived for centuries and _one_ adventure with that hobbit had been quite an unforgettable one.

_There's no knowing where you'll be swept off to, indeed my dear Bilbo Baggins._

Elysia became somewhat mollified of her irritation with Sam's raucous pack as he cooked them an enticing meal of sausage slices and bread. The sky darkened, and they stopped to rest for the night at the base of a tree well hidden within the brushes. Elysia was perfectly content and tempted to push forward and travel in the dark, but the hobbits were weary. They were not used to such long treks—they haven't even left their Shire!

Not needing a daily dose of sleep, she evaded her slumber and sat like a watchful warden in the canopies above the Halflings. Her dark clothing and the canopy leaves rendered her invisible. She listened to Sam grumble and complain about the uncomfortable ground and couldn't blame him. She quite liked the plush bed she had in the Shire. If only they an immense dragon sized one for the Eldest. Valzinjr would be most pleased at the new and less stiff sleeping nest, but then again… If the old dragon had one of those, he would probably sleep eternally.

000

For a wise old Istari, Gandalf felt like an utter fool. Nausea swam in his gut as he began to realize the dreadful truth of Saruman the Wise.

_Indeed, the dragon was right… Something foul has festered in Isengard and Saruman…_

He moved his glare from the foul Pilantiri, a seeing stone, to the powerful wizard he once always respected. Saruman held his glare with a patronizing stare, pale, gnarled, sharp hand grasped on his staff with a smug power hungry air that Gandalf found more putrid and wicked than an orc's carcass.

Hope for Frodo still remained, for the wizard has left him in good hands. However, Gandalf felt hope waning for himself. May the stars watch over him…

000

Sam managed to weave through the towering corn fields onto a clearer little path. His curls bounced as he shook his head back and forth before looking around.

He was alone.

Panic welled inside him. Sam began to walk frantically.

"Mr. Frodo?... Frodo?!" He began to quicken his pace as he looked for the young master. Frodo entered the small path along with Elysia, looking mildly startled. Same sighed in relief.

"I thought I lost you."

Frodo frowned. "What are you talking about?" Elysia stared into the fields with a distant expression of scrutiny. While she was taller than her hobbit companions, the corn fields managed to obscure her vision with their robust height. However, her ears were catching something.

Meanwhile, Sam turned a little exasperated. "It's just something Gandalf said."

"What did he say?"

"'Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee' and I don't mean to."

Frodo held back a snort as he smiled. "Sam, we're still in the Shire, what could possibly happen?"

As if Frodo had jinxed their peaceful fortune, something rammed into Sam and toppled him over. Frodo stared, startled at the sudden sight of a very familiar hobbit. Then another rustle came and another "something" burst from the crops. The second "something" rammed into Elysia.

It was like running into a statue. Her appearance always belied her sturdiness. With a small oomph, the "something" bounced off of Elysia's unmoving form and collided with Frodo, who wasn't as physically steadfast as the dragon and tumbled over in a messy heap of curly hair and vegetables.

Elysia stared flatly as the Halflings attempted to regain their bearing like a ditzy group of newly born hatchlings. Of all the beings they could have encountered, they encounter the devious Brandybuck and foolish Took.

"Frodo!" The said Took stared down at the startled Baggins. "Merry! It's Frodo Baggins!"

The Brandybuck began to stand as he brushed himself off and greeted him "Hello Frodo!" delighted that they ran into a friend of theirs… Quite literally.

However, there was a hobbit that was not quite delighted at the meeting. Sam grabbed Pippin and tossed him off of the stunned Baggins.

"Gerroff him!" He growled.

Merry began to gather their bundle of newly gathered crops, piling them promptly into Sam's arms.

"You've been into farmer Maggot's crops." Merry and Pippin froze at _the voice_. That voice of smoky tenor in that ominous monotone.

Merry and Pippin swallowed hard as they stood up and turned to face _the voice_. They hadn't noticed, in their haste, that they intercepted a company of three not two.

Pippin almost whimpered. Elly Walkins looked particularly more intimidating that usual in her strange attire. Those pale stormy eyes held a feline glow under the shadow of the dark hood and by the Shire, are those _swords_ that she is carrying?

"E-Elly!" Merry managed to squeak. The sapphire pommel of Faersing seemed to wink dangerously at him.

The sound of barking dogs and a very angry farmer making his way through the cornfield interrupted them. This time Farmer Maggot had his scythe. Gnashing his teeth nervously, Merry quickly grabbed Frodo and Pippin and ran the opposite way, into the field of corn. Sam was still frozen with the vegetables in his arms until Elysia sighed and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to run along and follow the hobbits before she followed. Now was not the time to deal with a raging, scythe wielding hobbit.

"I don't know why he's so upset! It's only a couple of carrots!" Merry cried as he ran through the thick field.

"And some cabbages!" Pippin added. "And some of those-"

Elysia tuned out the hobbits with an inward sigh. She was sorely tempted to slice through the stubborn corn fields. The hobbits had better luck in running and weaving through the thick foliage due to their size.

She heard a crowd of yells that soon were mixed with the sound of loosened dirt, snapping roots, and tumbling pebbles as they faded.

_For the love of-.._

Elysia broke through the vegetation only to find that the hobbits were tumbling down a very steep hill. Forget the trouble she went through with one hobbit on the Erebor journey, she had the inkling that these four hobbits will put her through something else entirely.

With a quick glance to gaze the steepness and drop, Elysia made her nimble decent with certainly more grace than those hobbits.

...

The hobbits groaned and moaned as they began to disentangle themselves from the heap. Frodo stood up as the others discovered mushrooms and began to hastily lunge at the delectable fungi. He scanned the area, mainly the matted dirt beneath his feet. A frown made its way to his features as he began to realize something.

They were on a road. Didn't Gandalf say to stay off the road?

"I think we should get off the road."

The hobbits gathering the mushrooms were too focused on their wonderful find. The winds began to hiss and Frodo's eyes narrowed at the path and suffocating sensation. The road felt as though it were compressing.

Suddenly, a dark figure landed from above in a quick and rather feline crouch. There was little evidence of her slipping on the steep hill, if she slipped at all.

Elysia snapped up and bored a heart stuttering glare of aggravated urgency at the three hobbits. Faersing and Sivindr's pommel glinted dangerously.

"Get off the bloody road!" She snarled so ferociously that Pippin, Sam, and Merry bolted upright and hastily obeyed.

Elysia moved to Frodo so swiftly and practically carried him off the leaf strewn path. Luckily, they had enough fortune to find a big enough hollow under the roots of a roadside that would fit all five of them. It was a tight squeeze. Frodo was placed in the deepest corner of the hollow, partially shielded from the mouth by a tense Elysia. Pippin, Merry, and Sam fidgeted and squirmed in discomfort until Elysia glared at them with her icy daggers. They could have sworn she hissed.

It wasn't long before they understood her sudden severity...

Heavy hooves clopped to a halt on the road. From the gaps of the roots they could see bloody nails imbedded into the black hooves. The dark steed snorted and Elysia wrinkled her nose. It reeked of old blood.

There was a rustle.

A metal plated boot landed on the ground. The rider was off their morbid steed. An armored hand curled over the rooted edge of the mouth. The rider was crouching.

There was a dark, blood curdling, spine chilling sensation that crept through them as they heard the deafening sniffs in the silence. The Halflings trembled while Elysia remained frigidly poised. Her hand silently and slowly made its way to Silvindr's handle. So her suspicions were correct… Sauron has sent his forsaken riders to track them down. She dreaded this.

A dark whisper slithered to her ears. Elysia nearly gasped as she whipped her head around to see Frodo and that accursed Ring. She grabbed his wrist in a vice like grip, breaking him from his trance. To have her hand so near the Ring nearly made her jolt. She flinched and released Frodo as if he stung her.

There was a hitch in the hissing breath of the black rider.

Desperate, Sam swung the bag of mushrooms far off the left. The rider immediately flew to the racket with a shriek. Immediately snatching the chance, they all ran from the hiding spot and headed deep into the forest. Elysia kept a hand on Silvindr's handle as she made sure Frodo and the others stayed in her line of sight. They didn't stop running for several minutes. Merry stumbled downhill and fell onto the leafy ground. The others stopped, equally out of breath. Elysia remained watchful of the trees behind them.

"What was that?" Merry panted.

Frodo breathed hard and slowly looked down at his palm, realizing he had taken it out of his pocket. The deceptive appearance of the simple gold band was unnerving.

"There is no time. We cannot linger here!" Elysia forced Merry to stand. "Stay low and discreet. Do as I say and follow my movement." Her fierce command left no room for argument.

She then turned to the plump hobbit. "Sam, bring me your water."

The gardener hastily obeyed, pulling out his bota bag and unscrewed the cap of the leather sac. Elysia quickly tipped the bota bag and poured water onto her pale hand, much to their surprise. She ignored their inquisitive stares and gently put forth her moist fingers to her lips, cupping her mouth as if she were gently blowing an invisible horn.

Pippin and Merry gasped in surprise, Sam's jaw hung open, and Frodo only widened his eyes. Mist poured from her fingers and began to rise from the ground and the area around them. Soon the land around them was shrouded in mist.

"Stay cautious. This trick won't conceal you entirely, and it won't last forever." With that being said, she forced them to run with stealth from tree to tree.

They were travelling through the night. Elysia paid little heed to the fact that her company of two had now become a company of four. She moved like their shadow, swift and silent, while her ears, nose, and eyes remained alert for the slightest hint of those foul riders.

"What is going on?" Pippin finally asked, tired and confused.

Neither Frodo, Sam, nor Elysia gave him an answer. Merry, being the smarter one of their duo, stepped forward, near Frodo.

"That black rider was looking for something… or someone… Frodo?"

Get down!" Elysia hissed and forced them flat on the ground as she crouched low over them.

In the moonlit night, they could make the outlines of the dark rider and his foul steed. The black horse's breath fogged the air around its head like a poisonous miasma. Under the chilling wind, the forest fell deathly silent as the rider scanned the surroundings before urging its horse elsewhere and out of sight over the hill.

Frodo released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

"…. We must leave the Shire…" He whispered to Merry, still staring at the moonlit dark. Pippin and Merry stilled at this. A hobbit leaving the Shire?

Frodo then turned and Merry saw the adamancy in his eyes. The Baggins was not jesting. He was really going to leave.

"The three of us must get to Bree." Elysia hissed. "Merry, you know this place like the back of your hand. Is there a faster way to cross the river?" Elysia knew of a crossing, but it was over twenty miles away. They couldn't risk such distance with mounted pursuers in their path.

Merry hesitated, still unnerved by the news. He then put on a braver face.

"Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me."

The frantically ran through the night, now with Merry in the lead. But their fortune finally wavered. An earsplitting shriek echoed the forest as a black rider burst from the woods and into their tiny clearing, intercepting them and dividing their group. Like startled lambs, they scattered and stumbled in panic as the terrifying cloaked figure towered over them.

Frodo saw a sudden gleam of radiant silver glint under the moon. A familiar curved blade swung through the air like a swift gust of wind, nothing but a blur that sped past the rider. He barely even heard the sound of flesh being cut, but the rider's horse released a pained cry and its hind legs crumpled to the ground.

As the rider fell in a shadow heap, Frodo heard Elysia's voice loud and clear.

"RUN!"

The said dragon suddenly appeared by Frodo's side and grabbed Frodo by the arm, forcing him forward while Silvindr gleamed in her other hand, unsheathed and edge shining with dark crimson blood.

They were behind the others. Frodo clung onto Elysia's calloused hand for dear life as she wove through the trees with such speed that she practically supported Frodo's entire weight. They managed to run out of the forest where Elysia spotted the others preparing the ferry.

"Frodo! Elly!" Sam called.

"Get going!" Elysia yelled. Merry and Pippin quickly obeyed, shoving the ferry from the dock. Sam panicked. Elysia and Frodo weren't going to make it in time! They needed to wait!

As they neared the wooden fence, Elysia sheathed Silvindr and swept Frodo off his feet with a single arm. Holding him to her in a relentlessly strong hold, she sped faster than before and leapt over the fence with a single bound.

Sam, Pippin, and Merry began to frantically cry out to them as a black rider erupted from the forest, not far behind them. Elysia gave an extra burst of speed at hearing those clopping nailed hooves gallop behind them. She could smell the foul breath of the horse… feel its breath against her neck. With a great leap, Elysia covered the fifteen foot gap. Her skidding against the ferry's wobbly wooden floorboards mirrored the hooves of the rider's steed as it skidded on the dock. An enraged shriek echoed the night as the rider yanked the reigns of its horse, turning it back from the water's edge and back to solid earth. They could feel the malicious dismay targeting them at their narrow escape. They watched in horror as more riders began to emerge from the shadows.

Frodo was still clinging onto Elysia, heart racing and lungs burning. "How far to the nearest crossing?" He shivered at the thought of being ambushed by the riders again just after this close call.

"Brandywine Bridge… Twenty miles." Merry's information brought little assurance and ease to the hobbits. Frodo buried his head in Elysia's shoulder. The sound of the dragon's strong hammering heartbeat dwarfed his own palpating heart.

Elysia merely held him close for a moment before gently letting him down. Frodo still did not stray near her form, clinging to her hip like a frightened child to its mother. She caressed his curls silently, refusing to murmur soothing words of false comfort to the little one. He must remain vigilant until they reached Bree.

Sam edged closer to the female, feeling more secure by being near her fierce presence. Pippin felt a twinge of envy at Frodo basking so closely in Elysia's protective aura as she nurtured him and kept him close. Being the youngest, he felt particularly more vulnerable and desired nothing more than to hide himself in her arms at that very moment. Even Merry was closer than he was, his shoulder touching her free side as he maneuvered the ferry.

Unable to stand the lingering fear of the terrifying experience, Pippin edged a little closer to Elysia and leaned a little more towards Merry. After a few uncertain hearbeats, Pippin suddenly found himself with the side of his face pressed against the side of Elysia's stomach. She had bluntly but gently grabbed his collar and pulled him to her, for she smelled his fear.

Feeling the warmth of her hand against his neck, Pippin released a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Don't feel so at ease yet… And pull up your hoods. It's going to rain very soon."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Blades

They followed Elysia through woods. They were getting drenched, huddling in their soaked cloaks as their packs began to way down upon them with the added weight of the rain. But as miserable as the weather felt, it gave them an advantage as they moved through the noisy pitter patter, the sounds of their movement muffled.

The hobbits, although wariness was first in their mind, were fascinated and undeniably unnerved by their female warden. She had always moved with a certain stern grace, always looked a little aloof at some points, but never hesitated in helping out a hobbit with a heavy load or in entertaining the children that rushed to her. Within the Shire, she was the "Walkins" they all new and many respected.

But out of the Shire… Seeing her now as she crept through the wet woods and guided them to the gates of Bree, she was different. She moved with a predatory elegance like a feline or she-wolf stalking its prey, and when she had Silvindr in her hand and moved without hesitation to strike, Frodo Baggins was reminded that he was in the presence of a being far older than him, Bilbo, or any of them here and perhaps even in Hobbiton combined who had seen many things and been many places. He was in the presence of a dragon.

The gloomy wooden gates of Bree were in sight, and as gloomy as they were the hobbits never have been so relieved. Elysia quickly rapped hard at the door, and from the wooden flap she met eyes with a grouchy old gatekeeper. He looked at her hooded face and the snarl on his mouth grew.

"What do you want?" He asked suspiciously.

"We're headed to the Prancing Pony."

The gatekeeper narrowed his eyes further at the "we're" and quickly closed the flap before opened the door.

"You and what kind of company-…" He stretched out his hand with a lamp its grasp. "Hobbits?... You and four hobbits? What brings so many of ye' out from the Shire and into Bree?"

"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own." Frodo spoke out.

If Elysia's narrowing of those stormy eyes didn't make him relent his pressing, Frodo's words did. The gatekeeper avoided those piercing eyes and looked down at the hobbits, hesitating before giving a small smile.

"Alright young sirs, I meant no offense." He began to move out of the way, much to the Halflings' relief. "It's my job to ask questions, after all." He babbled on. "There's talk of strange folk abroad… can't be too careful."

Elysia turned to the gatekeeper. "Has Gandalf the Grey recently come into Bree? The old man with a pointy gray hat and a long beard." She spoke out of earshot to her companions.

The gatekeeper frowned and his words brought dread to Elysia. "I'm afraid I haven't seen such fellow around." Was it just his age getting to him or was this young "sir" a ma'am? He could not tell under the hood.

Elysia departed after her companions with this news, leaving the gatekeeper to squint at her back, trying to decipher her gender. She dressed like a male, albeit a little on the thin side, and there weren't any feminine bumps he could see, yet she sounded a little feminine. But then again, no maiden would carry such swords as that "young sir" did.

Indeed… There are some strange folk going about.

Elysia pulled up the scarf around her neck and concealed the bottom half of her face. She could sense the hobbits' anxiety as they treaded the intimidating crowd in Bree. Folks stared at them but only briefly when they sighted the taller hooded and sword wielding figure that accompanied them, for hooded folks with swords were dangerous. The stranger could be some kind of ranger.

When they reached the doors to the Prancing Pony, Elysia turned to Frodo.

"I'll be back in a few minutes or so, little one. I'm going to have a look around. Remember what Gandalf said about your name."

Frodo nodded, and Elysia looked to the others.

"And keep _out_ of trouble."

She then pivoted on her heel and swiftly walked away, deeper into Bree while Frodo and his friends entered the Prancing Pony.

...

Elysia headed for the general store deep in thought as she aimed to stock them on a few provisions for a long journey. Gandalf said he would meet them in Bree, but he hasn't. Gandalf always kept his word, especially in a time like this… At least he always tried, unless…

Something must have deterred him. Elysia found herself worrying greatly for her old master as she grabbed three leather bota bags on the shelf. She trusted Sam to have packed a lot of food, but with four hobbits she would most likely have to hunt.

This situation smelled fouler now. There were those forsaken Nazgúl on their tail and Gandalf is delayed. She began to wonder what delayed the wizard. This was just like that incident in Erebor when he went to investigate the darkness conjuring in Dol-Guldur… But this time he was visiting…

_Saruman…_

"_Something foul festers in Isengard…."_

Elysia gnashed her teeth in frustration as she purchased her things, slamming them down with more force than necessary onto the wooden counter, causing the merchant to somewhat cringe and hastily pack her purchases. If Gandalf was deterred by that white wizard then where was she supposed to take the hobbits? They could not return to the Shire, not with the Ring in Frodo's possession and the wraiths pursuing them, but they cannot go on the run forever.

Her reverie was broken by a dark shiver crawling down her spine. She nearly had her horns emerge from her temples while her ears twitched at the accursed familiar sound. A foul whisper ran through the air.

_Frodo_

The merchant flinched as the mysterious customer snatched her purchases from the counter and ran out of the shop in a blur. A sigh of relief escaped him at the sight of the odd figure exiting his humble market.

It only took her a few heartbeats to arrive at the Prancing Pony, and when she did her eyes scoured the inn, ignoring the bartender's curious gaze. Anxiety lanced through her heart. Her little one was nowhere in sight, but she spotted the others looking terrified. With a few long and fast strides she loomed over them like a lion over the lambs.

"Where is he?" She growled. Pippin and Merry flinched, becoming mute, but Sam was frantically speaking in a rush.

"The ranger took Mr. Frodo! Frodo, he j-just slipped and the ring flew out of his pocket a-and landed on h-his finger. He turned invisible then a-appeared then the ranger just took him-"

"Took him where?!" Elysia snarled.

"U-up the stairs!" Sam stuttered. Within the blink of an eye, Elysia left and headed for the stairs with silent fury. After a long pause, Sam swallowed hard and turned to the others.

"Come on! We've got to help Mr. Frodo and Miss. Elly!"

Merriadoc Brandybuck grimaced but didn't argue. Help Frodo and Elly? How about preventing Elly from murdering that ranger?

000

Frodo was backed into a corner while the Ranger paced around, extinguishing his candles. The stranger new he had the Ring. He despaired because it was obvious he couldn't squirm away from this one. There was something about this man that screamed strength and authority in those eyes despite his rugged appearance.

"Who are you?"

He began to hope, for Elly should be back at the Prancing Pony any minute now. He just had to stall.

The ranger tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, like a black wolf standing menacingly tall.

"Are you frightened?" He asked almost mockingly.

Frodo swallowed hard and glared at him. "Yes." He would not deny it.

"Not nearly frightened enough." Strider responded.

Then everything happened all at once. Frodo could barely blink before he fell back at the splintering crash as the door burst open, practically shattering under the force of the dragon's barging. It was a blur of metal and bodies and moments later... the ranger was pinned against the wardrobe with a curved dagger against his throat.

Aragorn had lived long and experienced many things. He was an accomplished tracker, swordsman, and survivalist. He was prepared for almost anything he might encounter in the wilderness.

But that confidence was challenged in a mere second. Swift and steady, he had unsheathed his sword and whirled to fend off the intruder, be it a wraith, orc, or a mugger. But just as he brandished his sword, the intruder moved in such speed that rivaled the elves, pouncing on him like a wild cat. His ears caught the _shink_ of a dagger being unsheathed. His right arm, the one that wielded his sword, was caught in a vice like grip as he was shoved against the wardrobe. But Aragorn was experienced. In counter, he managed to grab the leather braced wrist of the intruder's dagger holding hand as the back of his head slammed against the wood.

To his surprise, the intruder was smaller than him in both width and height but wasn't a Halfling. The top of the hooded head was up to his collar, and the wrist in his hand felt slender. He couldn't make out all of the face under the coverage of the thin black scarf and the hood, but from the size of the body, the long lashes shadowing those storm hued eyes, and the graceful arch of the nose this intruder wasn't man.

But what surprised him the most was not the speed but the brute strength. As they stood in a standstill, Aragorn had been trying to retrieve his sword hand back from her grip while trying to distance the knife at his throat. He wasn't very successful if at all successful. So he tried to negotiate and calm her.

"Be at ease… I mean you no harm." His voice was gentle and honest.

"Who are you, ranger?" She hissed, her blade and position not swayed by the assuring words. The rugged man smelled of pipe weed and sweat amongst many other things more unpleasant to her nose,-really the race of man smelled so terrible sometimes. If she were blind and deaf, she would have mistaken many of the men in Bree for pigs-but there was something else that Elysia couldn't put her claw or forked tongue on about him. He wasn't a mere man despite his raggedy clothes and shabby appearance.

Frodo, speechless and even more frightened at the sight, finally found his voice. As daunting as this ranger was, the murderous aura emanating from his beloved friend was petrifying. It didn't sit well with him to imagine his dear Elly killing a stranger.

"Elly, no!" he cried running to them, mustering the courage to restrain his friend.

At the sound of his voice and his hands gripping her clothes, Elysia moved back as swiftly as the wind and stood with Frodo a little behind her and the ranger a good five feet away. The ranger kept a watchful eye on her fang-like dagger still in her white knuckled grip.

Elysia's eyes narrowed at the man before swiftly turning to her friend—still she kept the man in her peripheral—scanning for any injuries.

"I'm alright, Elly." Frodo assured as he held onto her robe. Elysia merely kept him close like a lioness with her cub and glared at the ranger. The ranger seemed to understand her meaningful glare and slowly unsheathed his sword before raising his hands as a sign of surrender.

"I know what hunts you." He never wavered from her eyes.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Elysia silently assessed the man. Slowly, she unsheathed her own dagger and pulled down her scarf.

"I've met you before… Or at least heard of you." She said with a little hesitation, unsure of her own words. Her voice was low, with an odd melodious tenor behind its edge, still wary and unfriendly.

Staring at those ancient eyes in that petite stoic face, Aragorn smirked.

"We have never met, for I would have remembered that face. But I've heard of you… The rumors are true, you are Mithrandir's apprentice."

A loud clumsy crash caught the two warriors' attentions. Immediately, their hands were on their swords as they whirled around to face the door.

Sam came stumbling through the ruined door barely held by its hinges. He had his fists up and ready with a brave face while Merry and Pippin both brandished a piece of furniture.

"Let them go! Or I'll have you, Longshanks!" Samwise Gamgee snarled.

The sight eased the tension instantaneously. Elysia fought the urge to look up and sigh in exasperation, but like the ranger she admired their stout hearts.

The ranger turned to Elysia and Frodo.

"You can no longer wait for the wizard. They are coming."

000

The people of Bree still awake were terrified. Something dark has come into the town, breaking down their gate and trampling their gatekeeper. The innkeeper closed his eyes and prayed to whatever deity there was as the black riders swooped into his inn like the dealers of death and shadow.

...

Elysia listened to the steady fall and rise of the sleeping hobbits. Some of them were even snoring, obviously exhausted by the thrilling course of events. However, one remained by her spot on the edge of the bed, sitting near her form. Frodo couldn't sleep and instead leaned against the dragon for comfort. Elysia said nothing but draped her arm around him protectively.

Her keen ears heard the sound of the riders coming through Bree and into the Prancing Pony. Luckily, Strider had set up a false room and they settled in a different area. Speaking of the ranger, he hadn't said much, perched near the window like a watchful guard dog. He occasionally glanced at Elysia and Frodo, but focused his attention to the outdoors. Elysia had finally allowed her hood to drape down on her back. A few loose strands of her raven hair framed her face in its dark waves. There was little she could do to hide the slight point of her ears.

Strider's sharp eyes had not missed this, for there was an obvious enigma shrouding the female of their company. But he said nothing for the woman's stony expression discouraged any pressing inquisitions.

A familiar blood curdling shriek startled them all. Elysia and Strider remained still but the sleeping hobbits all sat up. Frodo flinched and turned his head to the window, comforted a little by Elysia's arm. Those inhuman piercing shrieks echoed through the night. They listened in silence until the hobbit could wait no longer to ask.

"What are they?"

Strider glanced at Frodo. His sea colored orbs darkening at the foul topic.

"They were once men… Great Kings of men… Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power… Blinded by their greed, they took them without questions. One by one they began to fall into the darkness. Now they are slaves to his will."

"They are the Nazgúl…" Elysia's voice was dark. "Ringwraiths… Neither living nor dead." She turned her piercing gaze to Frodo.

"At all times, they feel the presence of the Ring… They will never stop hunting you."

Then her eyes moved to Strider meaningfully, asking questions that were unsaid. The ranger met her gaze with honest eyes.

"I will take you to my home. It is the safest place to be."

As loathsome as the idea of leaving Gandalf behind was, Elysia saw no other option. She was sorely tempted to fly to Isengard and interrogate the white wizard, but she promised Gandalf to see the hobbits have a safer passage. So wherever Gandalf was, she could only hope and pray for his safety.

000

They moved out at the first light of dawn. Strider guided them through the wild, avoiding the roads at all cost. Elysia was content to allow him to lead, staying behind the hobbits to ensure they were safe while analyzing the ranger. Like all of the rangers, he was at ease in the wilderness, but the way he walked and looked around, touching the trees with fluidity as he went. It was as though he were one with nature, a behavior very elf-like. In fact, many of his movements were akin to those pointy eared immortals.

It was a pity he didn't have their smell, but his scent was not all bad. Perhaps if he bathed off the ick from his natural masculine musk, he might smell as attractive as he appeared. By the human standards Elysia supposed he was attractive, but she wasn't sure for she wasn't a human lady.

As she gathered the puzzle pieces revolving around Strider, something finally caught her attention. His hand was rested against a tree, but what she noticed about those rough, dirty calloused hands was the glittering emerald shining on his finger. The emerald was embedded in a ring, designed as two silver serpents wrapping around the finger.

It is the Ring of Barahir, an ancient heirloom even older than her. What was it doing in the hands of a ranger?

… _This is not some ranger._

It began to make sense to Elysia. The way the man moved, talked, and that ring of his… Even his scent was something different. She had encountered rangers before, caught their scent occasionally as she wandered about and protected the Shire. Those long lived Dunedain always felt a bit off from the average mortal man. Dragons had a keen, invisible extra sense, and that sense found a different flare in this particular man.

His blood was different. The magic in his veins was a not as watered down.

Throughout her long years in Middle Earth, men have proved to be unpleasant creatures. She wasn't fond of them, but neither did she resent them. They were a short lived race, sometimes too arrogant for their own good, but there were few she came to respect. She had great respects for Bard, who rebuilt Dale into its original flourish. The Men of the West, however, were a different category. They were as elusive as she was and how many dragons tended to be, and there were few that remained. The blood of the Dunedain became diluted after a time, but Strider's blood was more potent. With that ring and the flare in his blood, this man could be a distant descendant of Isildur if that was the case.

As intriguing as that information was, Elysia was rather indifferent. Whatever blood Strider may carry, it was his current actions and behavior that mattered to her. If he posed as a threat to them, more importantly to Frodo, she won't hesitate to cut off his head whether he is a man of royal blood or a mere commoner.

Merry seemed to share her wariness of the stranger. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" He whispered to Frodo.

Frodo hesitated. "I think a servant of the enemy would feel fouler."

Merry grimaced and adjusted his pack. "He's foul enough." He grumbled.

Little did he know that the man has sharp ears.

"We have no choice but to trust him." Frodo sighed, looking warily at Strider's back. Luckily they had Elysia with them, giving them a grateful sense of security sorely needed.

"If he tries to bring you harm, I will kill him." The hobbits whipped their heads to Elysia, eyes widening.

Even the ranger seemed to stiffen in his movements at her monotonous remark. There was no jesting in those penetrating eyes of hers, no sparkle or twinkle of mirth. They were flat and burned with a dangerous edge in the impassive face, gazing straight ahead. Her voice was cold and firm under the colorless tone. It was as though she were stating a simple fact; her strides unwavering and herself unnerved at the knowledge that the ranger heard her blatant threat loud and clear.

Merry and Pippin swallowed hard while Frodo frowned; displeased that Elly could speak of such dark actions with such ease. Then again, he was reminded that she _is_ a dragon under that hood.

"But where's he taking us?" Sam whispered.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee." Aragorn finally spoke. "To the House of Elrond." So the ranger did indeed have sharp ears.

"Did you hear that?" Sam became thrilled. "We're going to Rivendell. We're going to see the elves!"

While the hobbits shared his excitement, Elysia blanched and sighed in exasperation. The last time she went to Rivendell, there were those cumbersome twins of Elrond that tried to wheedle information out of her wherever she went, for they were curious of the apprentice of Mithrandir. Elves in Rivendell were always curious of her in those scarce times she came—mostly because of Gandalf—and called her the "walking riddle" or the "whimsical apprentice" for as elusive and scarce as she made herself around them; it only made their inquisitions worse.

But on the more positive side, the elves culinary skills—despite their significant deficiency of meat-and the scenery were enjoyable.

It was like a thorn to her side at times to keep herself concealed. At least in the Shire, there were two people that knew of her true nature and allowed her to act more naturally.

Elysia was a silent guard as they traversed the great landscape of Middle Earth, content to listen to the wilderness and to Pippin grumbling about food and being tired. They traveled through snowy grounds, through odd sands and brush, and rested in a marshy land. Grimacing, she avoided walking into the goopy waters as much as possible, hopping from the tiny little islands scattered across the marsh.

She settled on a lumpy spot, legs crossed and close to her chest in a meditative posture, waiting watchfully under the round eye of the pale moon. Strider sat near her.

"You should rest with your friends."

"My body's not in need of rest." She responded bluntly.

Aragorn sat still, quietly observing the maiden's own stillness. She was gazing at the sky, trying to pierce through the clouds in the distance with those eyes as if hoping to see the stars. There was sadness in those eyes… Longing…. Not unlike his own sullen appearance.

"Something is on your mind."

"Something is always on my mind… It is a mind, that's its purpose." She replied.

"It is troubling you. You look forlorn, my lady." He pressed, undeterred by her discouraging tone.

"I am alive. There is always trouble. That's life. It's the price of living."

Aragorn was more amused than exasperated. "You speak in riddles."

"Yes… It rubs off on you when you're with the grumpy old gray pilgrim." She mused.

"Perhaps that is why you are strange." Aragorn began smoking his pipe.

"I am strange to you because I was born different." She responded vaguely.

"What are you?" He pressed on.

"… I am complicated." Her reply was as toneless as ever.

To her surprise, the cryptic response brought a small chuckle out of the man. The ranger side and lowered his pipe.

"Indeed you are."

"I could say the same for you, _Strider._" Now he was still. He stared at her questioningly.

She finally turned and met his gaze, those eyes seemed to pierce through him and look to his very soul.

"You wear the Ring of Barahir, Strider… And the blood of the Dunedain is quite potent in you." She tilted her head and Aragorn had the distinct sensation of a scholar reading an open book. Her scrutiny ended with a huff and a small twitch of her nose.

"Merry was right, you are rather foul. You rangers' sense of cleanliness can be atrocious."

The ranger scowled lightly at this comment, but merely snorted before sighing. The silence didn't last long.

In the moonlit night, he soon began to sing softly to himself. Elysia sensed Frodo awakening at his song, and listened in silence as the hobbit questioned him of the ballad of the elf maiden.

Aragorn answered with a sullen air. It was the story of a she-elf whom loved a mortal man and thus perished because of it. Elysia felt a small pang of pity for the elf in the story. The same could happen for dragons, but for dragons it was much more destructive. If a dragon's one true mate, a mate they vowed to love for life, died then they are driven mad. If their loved one were slain, their other half would rampage to avenge their death until they perish from grief. In the War of Dominance, it happened many times. Many lovers were broken and those that went berserk were enslaved all the sooner by the Forsworn, for when they lose their other half they easily become nothing more than an empty shell of the proud and intelligent beast they were.

"Get some rest, Frodo… The journey to Rivendell will be long." Strider spoke gently to the hobbit, but the sorrow was still woven in his voice.

Frodo obeyed. As he closed his eyes on the rigid ground, he heard Elysia speak.

"And I hope you bathe twice when we get there, ranger." Her dry comment brought a soft chuckle from the said smelly ranger.

...

The hobbits were beginning to tire. Elysia ended up carrying many of their things, particularly Sam's large pack until they finally settled down at Weathertop. The land looked ominous and miserable under the strange dark miasma of clouds choking the light in the sky. Strider laid out four short swords for the hobbits to arm themselves. It comforted Elysia minutely for as stout and brave as hobbits can be, they were inexperienced with sword fighting. Still, it was better to be armed then left as defenseless prey.

Elysia stood close to the steep edge of the watch tower, eyes scouring the shadowed lands. Strider walked to her side.

"What is it?"

After a few days of travelling together, the two practiced survivalist began to work in unspoken cooperation. Elysia remained distant, dispassionate in befriending and cozying up to the ranger still. But since they had a similar goal in protecting the hobbits, there was civility. She only spoke out of necessity to him or when he wheedled her in that gentle way but at those times, her responses was all the more brusque.

"They're close… The wind carries their stench." Her lips thinned and her glare narrowed.

Strider scowled at this. "Can you tell how long?" He asked apprehensively, more concerned about the wraiths then her odd keen senses. He'll figure out the riddle of this woman some other time in the future when the situation wasn't so dangerous.

"No." She sighed. "But it's best if we move in the early morn, before the first light of dawn." She despised pushing the exhausted hobbits like this, but there was no other way; unless she shift and pluck them up and fly all the way to Rivendell, but that was simply ludicrous and foolish. She might as well light herself on fire and scream like a noisy beacon for that foul Eye to see. The elves won't react so pleasantly to having a dragon swoop in, and it was highly likely that Strider would not hesitate in attempting to "slay the beast" if he saw her true form.

She released a tired sigh and pulled down her hood, allowing the wind to caress her face. Closing her eyes, she massaged the bridge of her temple with a grimace. The signs of fatigue did not go unnoticed the ranger.

"You should rest. Not once have I seen you sleep since the journey." He saw her frown deepen and misunderstood. "Unless you do not require sleep."

"I'm not an elf, ranger." Elysia almost snapped. "But I shan't sleep with the shadow looming over my back like this." She then walked off to explore the tower, leaving Strider to frown.

Seeing the ranger's discontent face, and witnessing Elysia's small little lash out, Frodo sighed.

"Please don't take any offense. Elly is just difficult to understand sometimes but she is a good person." Frodo's earnest remark produced a small smirk from the ranger.

"And do you understand her, Frodo? Enough to know whether she is good? A good person is hard to find in this world."

Frodo's eyes did not waver. "Enough to trust her with my life."

The smirk grew into a soft smile. The ranger gave him a curt nod and pondered in thought. There was very little he knew about the Istari's old apprentice other than her name and the rumors wrapped around her. She was certainly older than him, and apparently immortal from the looks of her youthful features. The "riddle walker" traversed Middle Earth as much as Gandalf did, and behaved much like the rangers of the North; elusive and solitary. But even an apprentice of an Istari cannot avoid being in stories, especially when she participated in many famous events. Rather than who she was, it was _what _she was that Aragorn was trying to figure out. Some called her a familiar of the wizard, others called her a witch, and apparently the Shire-folk simply called her Elly Walkins.

As vague as the lady was with her midnight garb and striking swords, Strider trusted her which was an odd thing to do for a ranger who just met a mysterious and dangerous stranger. Because while she remained rather cold to Strider, understandable seeing that she's an experienced wanderer, it was her interaction with the hobbits that revealed much to him; enough to see she was no foe. With him, she had been aggressive and was now blunt and dry, but with the hobbits—particularly Frodo—she treated them with an air of delicacy and great care. It did not take him very long to see that Elysia had a merciless and almost savage streak. The gleam in her eyes proved enough. She would not hesitate to strike out and kill him to protect her "little one" as she fondly called Frodo.

As a foe, she was to be feared, but as a friend…

He turned and spotted Elysia coming to Frodo with a handful of wild carrots and potatoes. She tossed them to Sam, who immediately looked overjoyed before settling down next to Frodo. Frodo then leaned against her arm with a tired sigh and closed his eyes while Elysia simply draped an arm around him and murmured words to him; face still blank as a slate. But something she said seemed to amuse Frodo, for he smiled and let out a small chuckle.

Elysia did not smile with him but there was mirth in those sharp eyes.

000

The wind howled against her ears at the peak of Weathertop. The ruins were gloomy and the eroding statues of great men looked particularly eerie. Elysia sat against a pillar, dangerously close to the edge in the shadows under the moon. Her eyes gleamed silver as they scanned the misty land for any sign of danger. With the wind berating her ears, she couldn't hear the hobbits in the midlevel of the tower, but she assumed they were asleep. The ranger was scouting the lands on foot for any danger and perhaps for another deer or rabbit. She had eaten little close to nothing on this journey, preferring to give her portions to the ravenous hobbits. They weren't used to travelling such long distances, so their generous appetite had increased considerably. She only ate a few bites at a time to please Frodo, who worried excessively for her, and even because the ranger demanded her to. While she was minutely touched by the ranger's concern, Frodo's amused her. Silly little one, he knew what she was. There was no need to worry for any lack in her energy.

She continued to muse on. Once they arrive and settle in Rivendell, she intended to aim straight for the bath before eating her fill. While her scales might not be dirty, this humanoid form was starting to feel grimy. She couldn't fly free in this form, so she was determined to keep it as clean as her dragon form. Her mood became more sullen in its brooding. The atmosphere up here was melancholy and dark, quite literally with the moon being shadowed by the clouds. The wind seemed to taunt her, teasing her of the flight she could enjoy with its gales lifting her wings, and the air began to feel even more malcontent.

A shout snapped her out of the reverie.

"Put it out you fools! Put it out!" Frodo yelled.

"You got ashes on my tomatoes!" Pippin cried indignantly.

Then, with the sound akin to the shrieks a thousand innocent tortured in a night, they came. Elysia released a hiss and leapt to her feet. Within a few large bounds, she ran across the top of the tower and gazed at the bottom of the other side. Black figures cut through the misty grounds. Five of the nine wraiths were coming for them, gliding towards the tower like restless spirits.

The sound of feet came behind her. Elysia whirled around, releasing Silvindr from her hip. The falchion gleamed dangerously, daring its foes to challenge its swift edge.

The sound had been from the hobbits. They had run up the tower, swords unsheathed, fear flooding their eyes.

"The fire. Miss Elly, we're so sorry-" Sam apologized in a frantic rush. Elysia cut him off. Now was not the time to stumble a foolish apology.

"Get behind me!" She commanded. The wraiths made no move to be stealthy. Their armored feet stomped the ground as they climbed up Weathertop.

The hobbits immediately obeyed, frantically looking left to right while Elysia stared at a particular area. She knew where they would come. They were practically announcing their arrival, announcing the promise of pain and death as their noisy armor shifted under the ragged black cloak.

They came like a looming shadow. Their darkness was a beacon. Their stench was nauseating.

Elysia's grip on Silvindr's handle tightened. As the wraiths began to draw their blades, the blade of Silver Wind began to gleam brighter, battling the corroded dull edge of the Nazgúl with its luster, like a bristling wolf against the wild dogs.

They were not outnumbered, but sorely outmatched like this. Elysia was strong, but even a dragon admitted a challenge when they saw one. The hobbits were nothing but pigs to the slaughter against these ancient evils, and in this form she was definitely uncertain if she could battle _five_ of them simultaneously. Five orcs? Definitely. Ten golbins? Yes. But five Ringwraiths with four frightened, inexperienced hobbits under her guard?

_Where is that blasted ranger?_ Elysia growled internally.

Now was not the time to seek the ranger. The servants of the Forsworn raised their blades, ready to skewer them as they advanced smoothly.

They seemed to designate Elysia as a formidable threat. Three split from the five and lunged towards her like a pack of crows towards carrion.

But dragon will never consent to be carrion.

Silvindr's edge collided against rusty blade, parrying the blow as Elysia swayed to dodge another from slicing her arm. The brute strength of the wraiths was formidable and their blades were swift. Silvindr deflected blow for blow of the three's onslaughts. Elysia ducked, narrowly avoiding a beheading swipe. She swung under their feet and diagonally up. It was an alien feeling to not feel the resistance of solid flesh as she cut a wraith's torso with a slash.

The wraith shrieked, more in rage than in pain. Elysia sent a kick hard enough to crack a rib at another wraith closing in on her open side. It flew back with a loud clank of armor onto the ruined pillar while she began to duel the remaining unscathed wraith. Its comrade quickly recovered from her cut and with a hiss, it drew another blade. The blade was shorter, and its cross guard was oddly shaped. But the putrid bloody scent radiating off of it was undeniable. It was a Morgul blade.

A shiver down her spine brought a falter to her movement. Unprepared for the haunting whispers that slithered near her ears, she staggered back with Silvindr at a particularly hammering blow barely blocked by the falchion.

_Frodo_

She began to connect the whisper to the One Ring. It spoke poison into her ears that grew harsher whenever she saw it, but mainly when it had been worn.

The momentary distraction was all that the wraith needed. It immediately tackled the opportunity and the Morgul blade came forth. Elysia's mind snapped back to focus like elastic as a searing pain burned her upper arm. The wraith managed to snag the accursed weapon into her forearm before she moved and sliced its hand in pure fury and reflex. As she moved, the blade traveled across her arm and formed a gash. The wraith screeched as its armored hand fell to the floor, but there was still success for its blade had tasted the maiden's flesh.

Holding back a cry as the gash burned and throbbed, Elysia deflected the second wraith. Her will battled against the hurt in fierce resilience, like a stubborn flame in the rain. When they screeched and their foul breath fogged her senses, the flame of her will began to stutter.

It was a pained cry that momentarily extinguished the flame. In its place was a shard of ice as Elysia snarled and kicked away her foe. Swinging around, her eyes scoured the area for the little one. He was nowhere in sight. But the wraiths were crowding around the empty spot and that very spot was where the source of the whisper leaked. The whisper was practically a roar now, filling her ears and head with horrifying guttural words in the black tongue.

That spot wasn't empty. Frodo was there, wearing the ring, and the wraiths just wounded him.

When she realized her ears had captured the gut wrenching sound of _Frodo's_ agonized scream, the ice began to melt and the embers of her will were fanned into an inferno. The wind around her began to howl and moan even louder, and under its caress, Silvindr's deadly edge sang.

The black tongue echoing around her began to quell, for there was something far greater than the foul speech that flooded her mind. The world seemed to move slowly now, as if time was holding its breath for her next move.

The Morgul wound on her arm did nothing to deter its movement now. Too much fire has been awoken. She reached up and towards her back. Storm clouds gathered in anticipation, fueled by her will. The wind stirred and seemed to stir around her, rising at her feet and swirling about the lady.

Her hand was red with blood from the wound. She didn't care. It reached back and gripped that familiar handle. The sapphire pommel seemed to wink and burn as if flame was licking it from within.

Aragorn had climbed up Weathertop as fast as he could, dreading what he would find on the top. He could only hope that the hobbits were alive, hope that Elysia's might would match and stall the riders. His torch roared and burned as the gales around him no longer caressed but violently collided with everything in its path.

What he had hoped was slightly different from what he saw. He nearly lost the grip on his torch. The sight would forever be ingrained into his mind.

The sight of Elysia, loosening her shoulder strap to draw forth a second blade. As she unsheathed the hand-and a half sword from its scabbard at wickedly fast speed, storm clouds from above rumbled and roared. With speed and ferocity akin to lightning, the woman lunged forward and swung the blurry blade the same instant it was unsheathed.

The wraith barely had time to lift its sword up and parry the blow, but the moment the sword met the corroded edge the Nazgúl's blade did something Aragorn had never seen a sword do against another blade.

It _shattered_ like splintered of ice, and the blue blur sliced down the tall form of the undead servant. The wraith released an unearthly howling shriek of agonized shock. It's comrades nearby also seemed to be taken aback, and a cacophony of screeches followed. The wounded wraith writhed and began to kneel. Like the oncoming storm, merciless and enraged, Elysia did not hesitate to lash at the closest wraith to the right. With a flash of fiery blue, another wraith was maimed as its second hand fell. With her falchion in one hand and a half and long sword in the other, she spun like a cyclone of blades twisting this way and that, blocking and slicing.

Breaking out of his stupor, Aragorn quickly joined in on the fight. He lit the frayed cloak of an incoming wraith before lunging at another with a battle cry. The wraiths began to scatter like bats in the night, shrieking in a chaotic flurry.

When the last wraith fled into the night with a torch stuck in its face, Aragorn turned to Elysia. Her swords were finally still in her white grip. A crack in the clouds allowed the moon to peek through and illuminate Weathertop, and with its light Aragorn focused his gaze on the most peculiar long sword.

The hand and half sword had a long narrow edge, concaving as it neared the crossguard. An ovular sapphire donned its pommel, held firmly in place by four claws of pale metal with a starlit radiance. But it was the very blade that captured most of the ranger's focus. The blade was _blue_, a paler shade of blue than the scabbard but blue no less. Cable like streams pattered the surface of the deadly blade as if the flames in which it was forged left a permanent mark. Under the moon, its brief sheen winked a deadly sapphire glint as if jovial upon being summoned, gloating its freedom and victory.

The sword was a thing of menacing beauty. It was a weapon that petrified foes and even friends with its terrifying splendor, held in a being whose appearance will belie the magnitude of power she held upon first glance. She stood there tall, dangerous, and resolute despite her lithe and petite frame. The blue sword looked like an extension of her proud being not simply a strange sword she wielded.

Right then, Aragorn saw and new that both wielder and wielded were meant to be admired and feared.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Shadows and Light

Faersing's leather handle felt warm under her grasp, and the sword seemed to gleam in joy at being summoned to battle, however sudden the battle was. Elysia felt the kindred savagery of her sword and her spirit, but at the sound of Frodo's agony it quickly dissipated. She whirled and rushed Frodo and set Silvindr and Faersing swiftly but gently on the ground near her. As her ferocity began to fade, so did the stormy skies. The light of the moon began to spread further and brighter.

"Frodo…" Elysia whispered as she knelt beside him. Frodo gritted his teeth and his pain stricken face twisted her insides. On the left side of his chest, there was a puncture wound.

"Strider!" She barked as she gently brushed Frodo's stray curly locks from his face. The said ranger came and quickly assessed Frodo's condition. Grabbing the foul blade near Frodo, he scowled.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade."

Elysia's breath hitched.

"Can you help him?" She managed to croak. Elysia's abilities with healing were mediocre, never being one to really need much in tending to her own wounds with her draconian vigor. She read books and scrolls upon medicine and healing in her long years, but had little firsthand experience.

Strider moved and picked up the wounded hobbit. "This is beyond my abilities. He needs elvish medicine."

Elysia's own Morgul wound was dim compared to the stab of guilt that wrenched her insides. Frodo was whimpered and groaning, calling out for Gandalf and then her. They ran through the woods until they entered a wide enough clearing, quickening their pace when they heard the screech of the wraiths. In the back of her mind, she recognized the clearing; three monstrous troll statues cracked and covered in vegetation. It has been decades since that incident where Bilbo fist snagged trouble.

Aragorn settled Frodo down on a bed of grass. The hobbit was ashen, convulsing and twitching. Elysia once again knelt to his side.

"Little one." At the sound of her voice, Frodo gasped and his glassy eyes lied upon her.

"Elly…"

"I am here, little one." She soothed. "I am hear." She grasped his hand and the blade of guilt in her heart twisted mercilessly. His hand was so cold and clammy, lying feebly in her hold. Wraiths howled in the night, and while Elysia tended to Frodo, Strider grabbed Sam by the shoulder.

"Sam, have you ever heard of the Athelas?"

"Athelas?" The words were foreign to his tongue.

"Kingsfoil. It's a weed." Elysia informed without looking away from Frodo. "It will help slow the poison."

They left to search for the plant in a hurry. Meanwhile, Elysia drowned in her guilt. How could she have let this happen? How could she fail Gandalf like this? Frodo hadn't just been injured by a knife or nicked by a sword; he had been _stabbed, _stabbed by a _Morgul _blade under her guard after she promised. She didn't just fail Gandalf. She failed Frodo and even Bilbo. Bilbo trusted her with Frodo, and Frodo trusted him to keep him protected from harm like this. How could she have let this happen to her precious little one?

A sudden aura and aroma caught her notice. She looked up and confirmed the unmistakable scent as an elven rider approached them. The she-elf leapt off her horse with inhuman grace and approached. A radiance of sacrosanct light shrouded her form.

Elvish words rolled off her tongue; her voice soft and musical.

_"I am Arwen… I have come to help you…"_ Those words were directed to Frodo, who was equally mesmerized by the elven maiden in his agony. Elysia recognized the name and the radiant appearance. This maiden is the daughter of Elrond, Arwen Evenstar, Lady of Rivendell.

_"Hear my voice… Come back to the light."_

But as lovely as her voice was, whatever enchantment she was attempting seemed to have little effect. Frodo's grip on Elysia's hand became nonexistent.

"He is fading." Her panic rose as her hand wiped the sweat from his sallow face.

Arwen was by Frodo's other side in an instant. "He's not going to last." One look upon that deathly ill face and milky eyes told the elf enough. Elysia said nothing but gave the woman a fearsome glare as if daring her to say Frodo was hopeless. If the she-elf uttered those words and gave up on Frodo, she will burn off that pretty dark hair from its scalp.

Arwen was not offended, but her eyes became saddened at the pain in the woman's gray eyes. "We must take him to my father."

The ranger lifted Frodo from the ground and away from Elysia. Her grasp slipped from Frodo's clammy hand.

"I've been looking for you for two days." Arwen stated as they headed to her steed. "There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four are I do not know."

As Frodo was propped onto the saddle, his head lolled feebly. Elysia grabbed her bota bag and snatched the remaining Athelas plant from Sam's hand. She began to quickly chew on the weed into a pulp before spitting it into her water pack. Sealing the cap, she shook it a few times in her hand and marched to Frodo's free side. Arwen and the ranger were speaking in elvish, softly arguing with each other. Arwen reasoned she was the faster rider, but the ranger was concerned with the dangers. In any other situation, it would be rather touching for Elysia to witness, but in a time like this it was making her angry.

She pulled Frodo from the saddle and into her arms, unscrewing the bottle. Carefully, like a mother with a bottle, she began to feed Frodo the water. It mostly spilled from his lips, but Elysia managed to have him swallow a few gulps. Tossing her empty water sack to the side, she held him close for a moment.

"The stars watch over you, little one." She whispered into his ear before setting him back up the white horse. Time was short, and Elysia's patience ran as thin as a blade.

"If both of you keep arguing, I am going to cut off your tongues." She hissed savagely, focusing on Strider. "Hold your romantic chivalry, ranger. If this she-elf is the faster rider then let her ride. Frodo's time is hanging by a hairline thread, and I will not have you waste any more of it."

Strider's eyes narrowed in anger while Arwen stood somewhat abashed, but Elysia did not apologize or look the slightest remorseful at her insult and threat. Even with that voice, radiance, and high status, Elysia didn't care that she offended the elf maiden.

The ranger opened his mouth to argue, but Arwen looked to him imploringly.

"She is right, we are wasting time." She gazed deep into those eyes she grew to love. "I do not fear them."

At her determined gaze, Strider's resistance died. He helped the she-elf leapt onto her saddle.

"Arwen." His heart beat fast as the lovely name escaped his lips. "Ride hard, don't look back."

Arwen urged her horse forward with urgent words and rode into the night, leaving Elysia and Strider staring at her departing.

"Those wraiths are still out there!" Sam cried in indignant rage. Elysia whirled her gaze to him.

"And if he stays with us, he will become one of them." Her voice was hollow. Without another word or notice to any others, she began to walk. The others followed after some hesitation.

Aragorn's keen sight finally spotted the darkness staining her arm. With Frodo wounded and her midnight garb already dark, he hadn't noticed. But with the torchlight, there was that telltale gleam.

"You're wounded."

"What of it?" She snapped as she continued to walk through the forest. The searing pain of the gash was both a blessing and curse. It managed to somewhat distract her from the guilt and worry gnawing her insides, but literally it was a curse. The evil wound was throbbing with a cancerous air.

The ranger quickened his pace to walk side by side with the woman. He scrutinized her stony face briefly before staring ahead.

"Do not fret. It will do nothing for Frodo, but he is in good hands." He said.

"Cease your feeble attempts to ease my conscious, Dunedain." Her reply was frigid, but there was sorrow under the ice.

They trekked long and hard, this time with Elysia in the lead, but eventually they had to stop for it was still dark and the hobbits were exhausted. They camped under the pine woods. The hobbits slept, huddled together for comfort and warmth. Elysia had covered them with an extra blanket before she set herself down against the base of a tree to brood.

After a pause, a shuffle was heard as the ranger sat by her side. Elysia fought the urge to growl like a wounded animal.

"The wound will fester." He didn't miss the scowl forming at her lips.

Elysia wanted to say "let it" but that was a childish thing to do. Instead, she made no sound nor moved a muscle. A sigh was heard and suddenly, she felt him gently touch the arm.

Now she didn't hold back a sound. A hiss escaped her and her pupils nearly turned into slits. Strider stared at her, quirking his brow with a scowl of his own. Did this woman just _hiss_ at him? Determined and a little annoyed at her foolhardy, stubborn, and bizarre behavior, he didn't release his gentle hold on her sleeve. He opened the ripped, blood soaked cloth wider, astonished by the startling heat of her blood and skin. Was she feverish? She felt that way, but her face wasn't breaking any cold sweat or looked sickly in any way.

Confused, he continued his examination and winced as he saw the gash with more clarity. It went diagonally and the cut wasn't smoothly made judging from the jagged bits of flesh running across the line.

And this was no mere flesh wound.  
The edges around the cut were veiny and the color was dark; the blood was black and the flesh was blued. The thick blackened blood seemed to have stifled a bit of the severity in the bleeding.

"You were wounded by a Morgul blade." His voice was low and undeniably frustrated that it was not known sooner.

"Perceptive." She snidely remarked.

"Why haven't you at least done anything about this?" Strider nearly snarled, forcing himself to control his voice to not wake the hobbits.

"If you haven't noticed, we have been preoccupied as of late, and I've done what was needed with the last of the Athelas." She deadpanned and then cut him off before he could continue.

"Stop fretting." She snapped. "And stop touching my arm, you'll get it dirty."

"You might become one of _them_ if we cannot make it to Rivendell in time." Strider warned.

"I know." She said heartlessly, surprising Strider with her apathy.

There was a moment of silence. Then Elysia spoke, the cutting edge gone and in its place was a quieted air of forlorn sorrow.

"Kill me before it happens."

She would rather be run through with the ranger's sword than become one of them. The thought of a dragon becoming a wraith was nauseating. An abomination like that should never exist.

The ranger stared at her long and hard. "No, there has to be another way."

"I'm not asking to be killed at this moment, you smelly fool." She snapped. "But if all else fails and we do not make it to the House of Elrond in time, do what you must and just end the misery."

"We will make it. I do not doubt your strength." His defense was a little flattering if it weren't so frustrating.

"Nevertheless, I trust you will do what must be done if it is inevitable."

Strider almost looked pained, puzzling Elysia. For barely knowing her, he was getting rather sentimental. He glared at her intensely and spoke low,

"This is not inevitable and it never shall be inevitable. We will make it to Rivendell and you will be cured." His certainty was fierce. He then pulled out a roll of linen from his pack and began to wrap her upper arm. This time, Elysia did not protest. She seemed lost in thought with those pale bluish gray eyes. Those eyes looked sad, keen but sad, and they stared at the sky with the same air of longing as she did. This man was strange...

They remained in silence for quite some time. Strider said nothing as he sat against the tree by Elysia's side. The stars twinkled down upon them, but it was of little comfort to either of them.

"Do not let them know…." Her voice was soft with a timid touch. "And do not let them see."

Aragorn fought the tightening sensation of his throat.  
Do not let the hobbits see her weak, see her dying, see him kill her.

"It will not come to that." He said forcefully. "It will not…" Whether he was assuring her or his own conscious, neither knew.

A soft snort escaped Elysia. "For a raggedy ranger you are rather soft and noble, Strider of the Dunedain." Then she snorted.

"But then again, you not just any mere raggedy ranger."

"And what gives you that idea, my lady."

"The Ring of Barahir." She answered, the answer to her minor riddle dawning on her. "Now I know where I have heard of you, _Estel_… Or should I say, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir."

Aragorn stiffened. He sat up straight and turned to Elysia, who merely looked bemused at his surprise.

"I've been alive for over a thousand years, Dunedain, did you think I would have naught a clue to who is bestowed the right to the throne of men? I may not have seen you before, but I know that ring and it explains your flare."

"My _flare_?" This woman was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

"Your blood has some extra flare. The scent of a Dunedain is different from that of an average man, but throughout the years that difference has been watered. The line of Elendil has always had more potency than the rest."

She continued after a pause, sensing Aragorn's distress at her knowledge. "I won't tell the others. It's not my business. Your lineage is of great importance to men, I on the other hand am indifferent." Her head turned to the man, and Aragorn felt her age tower over his as she spoke her next words carefully.

"For as of now, you have exiled yourself and rejected your birthright… Now you are nothing but a mere raggedy ranger to me, and it shall remain that way until you lay your claim the throne."

Aragorn sighed. "I have never wanted the throne." He leaned his head against the tree.

"Yes, well that tends to happens to even the best and the many, raggedy ranger." Elysia deadpanned. "I did not want to be born in the time that I was, and Frodo… The little one never asked for the Ring." Her tone became more hushed. "But everything happens for a reason."

Aragorn sensed her melancholy at the thought of Frodo, although he did not pat her shoulder—she might hiss again—he assured her.

"Frodo has a stout heart. Have some faith in him."

Elysia said nothing, but her shoulders loosened.

000

They were silent. The hobbits were quieter now, not even Pippin seemed to say much even as they travelled at a fast pace. With Frodo's fate unknown, they were in a hurry to arrive at Rivendell in hopes to see Frodo alive. Elysia remained silent because much of her focus was into their trek and into the wound. Cursing this form for its vulnerability to blades and sharp things, Elysia attempted to remain vigilant in bearing the growing agony raking her upper arm. If only this skin was as durable as her scales.

Aragorn kept a watchful eye on Elysia. They have been travelling with little rest and little food, hurrying to reach Rivendell. He feared the strain of their relentless pace was overwhelming her wounded state, but to his surprise the woman was extremely robust. She hid her pain very well from the hobbits and even nearly fooled him. But he had seen her at night when the hobbits were resting. She hadn't slept once, not even a nap, and her appetite was scarce.

It was the fifth day when Elysia's vigilance began to waver. With no rest, little to no food, and the haste, it was beginning to take its toll on her. She could not sleep, even if she wanted to, for she feared she might sink into a nightmare. The pain was too cumbersome anyways.

The hobbits readied their beds, too tired to complain or care at the cold and discomfort anymore. Elysia waited for them to fall asleep—which wasn't long—before she wandered off. She suspected the ranger to follow. He had been keeping an eye on her condition.

Aragorn followed Elysia, making no effort to hide that he was. She seemed to be leading him. She guided him to the river and stopped a few steps into the water. Undoing her weapons from their place on her back and hip, she settled near the water, leaning against a large boulder.

As Aragorn walked up to her, his jaws tightened at the sight.

Elysia was looking forlornly pained and weakened. She panted and leaned her head against the boulder to stare up at him.

"Aragorn…."

Her usual husky low tenor was worn and rigid. When she said his name, he knew what came next.

"No."

"I can feel it… Aragorn, it's time. By tomorrow, I will not…" She couldn't finish her sentence.

"No… I cannot do it." Aragorn whispered. "Elysia, I will not end you." He couldn't. With all her bluntness, hostility, and at times insulting interactions with him, she was not evil and while Aragorn could not say for certain what she deserved, he knew with a sense of absolution that she did _not_ deserve death.

"If you are truly noble, then you will end my misery." Elysia forced. She could feel the darkness, shadowing her mind, crowing over her like an eager reaper waiting upon the chance to claim her.

"Then I am not noble." Aragorn countered. "Because I refuse to give a person a fate they do not deserve."

"As if you know what I deserve." Elysia snarled. She mustered the strength to rise albeit shakily. She used the boulder for support and glared at Aragorn.

"I do not!" Aragorn cried. "But it certainly is not _this_."

"Whether it is to be deserved or not, it is not for you to decide."

"Yes it is!" Aragorn snarled. "Because I am deciding I will not do this!"

"Then you have doomed yourself and your race." Elysia's snarl became almost guttural as it took on a savage edge. Aragorn almost stepped back as her pupils began to widen before thinning into slits. "For I will become a wraith of unimaginable** horror!" **Her voice grew louder, booming with ancient power. Winds began to howl and the skies rumbled with thunderclouds.

"**And wherever I go, I shall wreak naught but chaos and misery. I shall be the oncoming storm and the skies shall rain naught but blood and tears. All shall fear me and all shall perish under my reign, for if you leave me to decay and rot into an empty shell of what I am, I shall be nothing but the demon of lightning and death. Nothing… But a slave to the dark lord!"**

And almost instantaneously, the winds began to die and the skies quieted. Elysia slumped against the rock looking more drained than ever.

"So please… If not for my sake, do it for the others…" She whispered. "I trust you will do what others cannot."

Silence fell between them. Elysia finally released a pained gasp as her wound began to throb and she convulsed against the boulder like a pitiful wounded bird.

She heard footsteps. Aragorn was stepping towards her. He stopped arms distance from her. His hand was placed on her better shoulder.

"Then trust me to save you from this." He whispered pleadingly with earnest eyes before lifting her off the ground and into his arms. Aragorn turned, only to stop at the sight of Pippin staring at Elysia's feeble state in horror.

The young hobbit's lower lip trembled. For a few moments, he lost his voice.

"S-she's dying?" He whispered in heartbreaking terror.

Aragorn did not answer, but responded with an order. "Wake the others… We cannot rest until we reach Rivendell."

This time Pippin did not complain. In fact, he ran to the others and promptly yelled at them.

"Get up! Get up!" Pippin cried. "Merry! Sam! Get up! Elly's hurt, and we need to get to Rivendell now!"

Sam and Merry immediately staggered to their feet, sensing the direness of the situation. Sam gasped at the sight of Elysia looking so vulnerable in the ranger's arms.

...

They ran through the night, crossing the river and jumping over streams. All the while, they tried to keep Elysia awake, for if she slept now she might not wake up.

"Elly!" Merry panted as he ran closer to the ranger holding her. "Remember that time you caught us stealing some pipe weed?!.. (pant)… And you forced us to float in two barrels…(pant)… In the middle of a lake…(pant)… and then you left us there…(pant)… while you had a picnic…(pant)… Right next to the water…"

"Yeah!" Pippin ran beside Merry. "And that time we stuffed fish…(pant)… In Maggot's pillow!"

"Pippin, she doesn't know that one!" Merry turned to Pippin. "And wasn't supposed to!" He yelled, smacking Pippin's head.

Elysia would have laughed if she had the strength to. The darkness was whispering in her, promising her power beyond anything she could have ever imagined, to become something of beauty admired by all servants of Sauron.

_**You shall become the greatest of your kind. You can bring forth a glory and rebuild what has been lost… come into the darkness.**_

Bitterness swept over her. Who was to blame for everything she had lost?

_I don't want to be something great…. I want to be something good. Smaug was great and he was terrible. Ancalagon the Black was one of the greatest, but was nothing more than Morgoth's pet. I want to be someone good first before ever someone great. Someone like…._

"Hang on, Elysia." Aragorn encouraged as they ran through what looked like plains of golden grass."Your friends have faith in you, so have faith in yourself."

Elysia's sunken eyes fluttered. The sun broke through dark clouds, outlining the ranger's head. Sweat poured from his scruffy face. His hair was in scraggly waves. Yet as raggedy as this ranger appeared, with those keen greened blue eyes, he had the essence of someone noble… someone good.

_Aragorn… I want to be someone like Aragorn… He has the potential to become a great king… As of now, he is a good man._

_He is a good friend._

The ranger spotted someone from the distance, coming into view out from behind a massive rock; a rider. It felt as though fortune smiled upon him, for the rider was not garbed in black, nor was his horse a dark color of any hue. His silver armor gleamed as he rode to them on the mighty white steed, like an approaching radiant star of hope.

Shining golden hair haloed around the fair and fearless face of Glorfindel of Rivendell.

"Estel." His voice like music, he pulled the reigns of his steed to slow it to a halt before the curious company.

"Lord Glorfindel." Aragorn almost sighed with relief. "You must take her to Elrond. She has been wounded by a Morgul blade. She is Gandalf's apprentice!"

Upon the sight of the waning raven haired maiden in his arms, Glorfindel frowned and leapt off his horse, elvish words rapidly pouring from his tongue in urgency.

"_Another one? How long?"_

"_Five nights and six days."_ Aragorn informed. _"She has not the strength to rise since last night."_

"_Only last night?"_ Glorfindel gasped as Aragorn passed Elysia into his arms. _"She's a strong one then, to have fought the darkness for this long."_

"_You don't know the half of it."_ Aragorn remarked while the High Elf placed Elysia on his saddle. Her head lolled on her neck and once again—this time Aragorn was certain it was no trick of the light—the scaly sapphire pattern rippled through her visible skin. Glorfindel spotted it as well and froze. His fair brows scrunched, bright eyes narrowed. Something strange flashed in the elf's eyes before he leapt up and onto his horse.

"Lord Elrond will send escorts." He informed, and with that being said he urged his steed forward.

000

There was darkness… Darkness so suffocating that Elysia wanted to scream. But she had no voice… No body… She felt nothing of her body, not even the pain, but only heard the beating of her heart. It was like a war drum, slowly quickening and quickening, growing louder and louder.

This darkness was a foul cage. Elysia began to panic. Dragons were never meant to be in cages. She wanted to get out. She wanted to be free. She wanted to see the sky, to see the clouds caressing the highest peaks, to see the moon bring forth a realm of silver light, to see the stars wink upon her, to feel the light of the sun touching her scales and bring forth the blue shimmer of its pristine condition. She needed to breathe; she needed to breathe the free air, and to feel the wind lift up her wings.

Then, as if to answer her prayers, there came a light. It was radiant as the sun yet soft in its caress like a full silver moon. A voice came, like the sounds of the deep wind chimes placed in Rivendell.

"_Hear my voice….come back to the light."_

The light was drawing closer, and while the dark was beginning to feel comfortable like a safe cave or windowless hobbit hole, Elysia could not stand to be in the black prison. With the light, returned the sensation of her body; her arms, legs, lungs, head, and the feel of her heart beating in her chest. With the return, she reached out for the light.

It embraced her and set her free, and Elysia found herself floating peacefully in warmth before she was taken by a less sinister darkness into her subconscious. Darkness of sleep embraced her, and she slept.

000

The first thing that registered to her mind was that she was on a very comfortable, plush, and soft bed. The second was that she was famished enough to devour a young Oliphaunt.

Her eyelids fluttered, but when she opened them, she immediately regretted doing so. Elysia cringed and let out a small groan as the light of Rivendell's afternoon day pained her eyes. Shaking her head briefly, she released a yawn and stretched her arms over her sheets like a cat after a pleasant nap.

Eyes still bleary, she made a few rapid blinks to clear her vision. She was near the arched windows, opening a marvelous view of the autumn trees. Leaves varying in the colors of flame fell from the great foliage. With the graceful arch of spiraling designs, quality furniture in the pale room, the ethereal elegance of the outdoors, and that distinct elven aroma, this was without a doubt Rivendell. She was in the House of Elrond.

As she stretched she felt a small ache on her upper arm. She peered down at the place where the wraith inflicted the Morgul wound, rolling up the loose sleeve, and found it bandaged neatly with the faint scent of Athelas and flare of elven magic. Her arm, once marred with spidery veins with a pallid bluing hue, was looking much more robust, it's color returning to the usual cream hue but had some slight discoloring closer to the wound. With Elrond's magic and her people's resilient nature, the wound will heal, albeit there will be a scar but full recovery was certain.

Scars were considered marks of vigor if they were made in battles or extreme challenges by the dragons, so Elysia hardly minded. In her dragon form, her scales would conceal the mark anyway.

She had been changed from her attire, left in a large tunic a bit too oversized, enough to have her shoulder almost escaping coverage. Chest bindings were still intact, and her trousers were exchanged for a loose thinner pair. Rising up from her bed to a lazy upright position, she grabbed one of the poufy cushions and embraced it.

"How are you feeling?"

The dragon whipped her head around to see a pair of bright eyes and a youthful fair face of a male elf with bright gold hair. Glorfindel stared curiously at her, as if she were a great puzzle or had horns growing out of her head.

...Had she grown her horns out?

Elysia quickly touched her temples and nearly sighed in relief when there was only hair. Speaking of her hair, it was out of its braid. Her fingers felt a foreign object in the waves of her hair and pulled out a leaf. A grimace made its way to her lips. She needed a bath.

"Forgive us for not putting a little more care to your state." Glorfindel spoke again, distracting Elysia from her thought. She locked eyes with him once more and quickly scanned him in an analytical manner. The elf was still in that gleaming armor etched with leaf patters on the shoulder plates. Still armed with a curved elvish blade at the hip, his posture was a little stiff.

"How long was I unconscious?"

Glorfindel almost tilted his head at the sound of her voice. It wasn't as graceful and musical as the females of his race, yet she had a slight point in her ears and certainly wasn't human of any sort. Her voice was low but held a rich edge in its tenor with an assertive grace, and perhaps even a bit fierce. She was immediately wary at the sight of him armed and armored.

"Three days and two nights." He informed. "We attempted to change you to more appropriate attire, but… You weren't so complacent to being handled while unconscious."

The puzzling look in those storm colored eyes eased Glorfindel. So she wasn't volatile on purpose. She didn't even seem to remember it.

"You thrashed considerably… I'm afraid it took six of us to restrain you while Elrond began to heal you, but once he did you seemed quite calm. We decided not to risk it. You broke an arm." He stated a little warily.

Elysia frowned and stared at her arms. They were not broken. Glorfindel pursed his lips.

"Not yours…" He informed with an air of amusement.

The scowl turned into a sheepish frown. At the sight of her remorseful, Glorfindel began to feel more at ease. She seemed very docile for her kind, if she was what he thought she was. He decided not to divulge that not only did she snap one of the servants' arms, but her eyes began to take a serpentine quality and her back had contorted briefly as wings attempted to sprout... He also decided not to hint that he nearly thought to kill her during the restraining since her thrashing and shifting was getting out of hand. But when Elrond managed to begin the healing, the wild empty blaze in those eyes began to dissipate and she stilled.

Elysia suddenly remembered why they were in Rivendell. "Frodo…" She whispered. "Where is Frodo? Is the little one-"

"Frodo Baggin is fine… He is healing as we speak. Lady Arwen managed to bring him to Imaldris in time for Elrond to save him." He assured.

Elysia let out a sigh of relief and raked a hand through her scalp, brushing back stray locks of her dark fair from her face. At the feel of her hair, she scowled again.

"I need a bath." She deadpanned.

Glorfindel gave her a gentle nod. "I will send a maidservant to assist you-"

"That is not necessary." She cut in. For she was sharp and she knew there was a reason Glorfindel was armored and ready with his blade while sitting near her bed. The elves were wary of her, and she didn't need a nervous maid fretting and flinching about, trying to tend to her with more fragility in fear of Elysia snapping her arm or biting off her head. Gandalf's apprentice or not, whatever she had done in her unconscious state made one of the most powerful elves wary enough to be armed by her bedside.

Glorfindel's eyes bore into hers with an indecipherable expression. Then he nodded once again. "Very well. I will have someone provide you more appropriate attire."

With that being said he walked gracefully out of the room. Elysia immediately slid off the bed, tossing the cushion back to the sheets before heading to the private bath. The High Elf seemed to have foreseen this, for the bath was filled with warm water. It was a relief. Although she didn't mind cold or heat, she could use some comfort after a tiring course of events.

Stripping herself her clothing, she entered the water and closed her eyes. Content to float there, she did so with a leisure air before undoing the now soaked bandage around her arm. To her displeasure, the gash hadn't healed, but that was the result of a Morgul wound. Even with her dragon resilience and elven magic, a Morgul wound was slow to heal. Sinking the arm into the water, she minded very little of the sting and reached for the soaps and oils neatly placed along the edge.

Elysia's ears heard her before she came. She knocked at the door and slowly entered at Elysia's soft approval. It was Arwen, daughter of Elrond. The elf damsel carried neatly folded clothes. Elysia wrapped a large drying cloth over her small form, dank hair hanging in waves down past her breasts.

"Where are my swords?" She inquired.

Arwen placed the clothes on the low shelf next to the towels. "We placed them in the corner of the room. The blue blade did something very strange."

"Did it harm you?"

"It stung our ranger when he touched the handle." Aragorn had dropped it like a hot fire poker the moment he touched the black leather grip.

Elysia raised a brow. "Faersing has always been volatile. It doesn't like being handled by others… Only its master."

She peered closer at the clothes and fought the urge to sigh at the rich pale blue and white material of the dress. Arwen sensed her unease, tilting her head with a small puzzled frown. She walked closer to Elysia. The elf woman was an inch or so taller than her, looking lovely with an air of noble elegance as she wore her rich, deep maroon dress.

"Is something wrong?" She inquired with a look of concern. "Does the dress displease you?"

"No… No, it's lovely…" Elysia said, but Arwen looked unconvinced. With a sigh, she explained.

"It's just very different from my usual attire… A dress… That is." She hardly ever wore dresses. It wasn't that she despised them in any manner, but it always seemed inconvenient, hindering her movement with the long skirts that could snag anywhere if she weren't careful. If she didn't spend so much time going out and about everywhere, perhaps she would have more dresses in her wardrobe but then again… She didn't really feel the need to emphasize her feminine appeal in the Shire.

"Silks and velvets." She mused as she stroked the white sleeve and the pale blue velvet of the torso. "I seldom ever wore something so… opulent." She confessed.

Arwen smiled. "Tis a shame not to indulge that beauty with some opulence."

Her compliment almost made Elysia squirm in embarrassment. She opened her mouth. Then she closed it, unable to find the right words to thank the fairest lady of Rivendell for her flattering words. The lady of Rivendell seemed to have forgotten, or merely ignored the fact that Elysia had been quite rude and violent to her prior to this meet.

Arwen broke the chagrinned silence. "My father wishes to see you once you're ready."

Now Elysia was immediately ready. She seldom ever spoke to Lord Elrond in all her years of living and travelling.

"Did he give reason?" She inquired.

Arwen, wishing to ease her immediate anxiety, spoke gently and carefully.

"He would like to see your recovery, and to ask a few inquiries but nothing too severe."

"I see…" The response was monotonous, giving nothing away. Elysia then pointedly glanced at Arwen and cleared her throat. The elf maiden's eyes widened and she gave the lady a small polite curtsy before leaving her to change.

000

The material was soft, and the skirt rippled like water when it fell down her legs. The sleeves went down to the mid of her forearms before draping down like a pair of white wings. The wide neck of the dress exposed her pale collarbones, and just about concealed the parallel scar on her shoulder where she had nicked herself on Faersing's sharp edge twice when she first began to practice with the sword. The pale blue velvet of the dress clung to her torso while its skirt billowed with her strides. She left her hair free to dry as she swiftly and silently went through the corridors, attempting to be as invisible to the elven folk as possible.

She wasn't oblivious to the glances at her way, some curious and some wary. Her footsteps slowed to a halt as she spotted something familiar in the distance. A large moth was fluttering about, heading her way. Holding her breath, she quickly rushed to the edge of the window and reached out for the small winged creature.

...

Lord Elrond watched the leaves fall from a balcony, ancient eyes narrowed in troubled thought as the cogwheels of his mind turned to figure out the puzzle before him. When she arrived as requested, he made no effort to hide his curiosity. He had assumed that the Istari's apprentice was an odd elf, or had elvish blood running through her veins. But after what he witnessed three days ago, he was certain that lady was an elf of any sort. He thought she was cursed with some great evil, but he felt no great evil in her spirit.

He had always wondered what made Mithrandir take her as his apprentice, and now he was beginning to see. A great power dwelled within her, as deceiving as her appearance seemed.

"You look well."

"I am well, thank you, Lord Elrond." She gave him a small bow, but kept her distance. Her face was like carved stone. There wasn't much between her and the elf. He always gave her looks and frowns whenever she came.

"Betrayal runs deep in your Council, Lord Elrond." She swept her gaze to him evenly. "The Wizard in Isengard has turned against the light for the darkness."

"Saruman?" Elrond gasped. "That is a lie!"

Elysia was impassive to Elrond's lack of faith in her words. She merely shrugged. "Believe me or not, it matters little to me for it is the truth, and you will soon know it. Gwahir sends word; he has aided my old master in escaping Saruman's imprisonment."

She then gave him another curt bow.

"Forgive me for being the bearer of ill news. Better me than someone you're fonder of at the moment." Whether her apology was genuine or not, it was hard to tell with her toneless manner.

"I have never disliked you." Elrond frowned. "Nor do I now. You are an odd individual, Lady Elysia. Gandalf has been keeping something from us."

"Yes, well he has that riddling tendency." She deadpanned. "But he has done it for my sake… My kind hasn't exactly been portrayed pleasantly amongst the Free People."

"Your kind?"

Elysia nodded with a halfhearted smirk. "Indeed… You see us as treasure loving spawns of Morgoth, volatile, greedy, and cruel. Which I cannot blame you for. The few of us the Free People have encountered have been nothing but savage."

She watched as Elrond's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. His mind was putting the puzzle pieces together now, in rapid succession.

"You are a wyrm?"

Elysia pursed her lips and scowled. "The more polite term would be dragon, Lord Elrond. But if you insist upon saying it that way, yes. You have a 'vile', 'wretched', wyrm dwelling within Imaldris, right before your eyes." She raised her arms up in mock dramatic gesture.

Elrond stared at the lithe maiden before him and seemed to find difficulty in accepting the information. Elysia sighed and appeared rather snide.

"We dragons are capable of taking on a less…. Intimidating form." She wiggled her fingers. "But many of us choose not to, because we don't really feel the need to interact in more sociable ways if interact at all. Many of us tend to keep to ourselves so eventually we lose the ability. I however, as you can see…" She gestured to herself.

"But I sensed no evil in you. Dragons are the spawn of Morgoth."

"Yes… So you presume." She folded her arms, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Misconceived by many." She muttered more to herself.

"Glaurung was the first dragon that came to existence. Morgoth-"

"He was the first dragon that was _seen_ in Middle Earth… As a dragon… I shall say it again, Lord Elrond. We dragons tend to keep to ourselves. We remain elusive, and some of us are hidden in plain sight." She gestured to herself once again.

"And there is a reason for that." Her shoulders sank as she stared back at the outdoors. "We have made ourselves scarce. It lies within the dragons you have seen that wreaked mindless havoc upon Middle Earth."

Elrond made a noise, something akin to a snort or grunt. "If you are a dragon, and simply not some elf born with a… curse of a sort…

Elysia gave him a sardonic side glare. "Shall I reveal my true form right now? I'd rather not, honestly, because I do not want Glorfindel rushing here in an attempt to slay me." She blanched.

"He will do no such thing. You are Mithrandir's apprentice."

"And apparently 'the spawn of Morgoth'." She muttered.

Elrond's scowl deepened, and Elysia sighed. "If you are so adamant in desiring proof."

She faced him fully. Suddenly, a scaly blue pattern rippled through her arms and up to her face before returning to its usual cream skin tone. Her pupil's turned into slits and horns began to emerge high on her temple, parallel to the points of her ears. She allowed Elrond to stare at the horns before closing her eyes and forcing the partial shift to recede. The horns began to shrink into her temple and with a jerk of her head and a grimace, her eyes returned to its normal piercing appearance.

With a deep sigh, she gazed into Elrond's old eyes. "I mean no harm to you or your people. Nor do my kind."

"I know." Elrond's hard gaze softened minutely. "You have always brought aid as a friend of Gandalf's."

Uncertain silence hung between them. Elysia fought the urge to fidget.

"… What of Frodo's wound?" Elysia changed the subject. If Elrond wished to pry upon the rather miserable history of how the dragons came to be so elusive, it could wait. "He will recover, will he not?"

At the subject of Frodo, Elrond turned grim. "Yes, he will recover, but I fear that the wound will never fully do so… As strong as the hobbit is… It will continue to bother him. As for you-"

"I shan't be bothered by mine." Elysia said with a bit of a wave. "It may be slow in healing, but it will heal. It wasn't inflicted as severely as the little one's." She then gave a small bow to Elrond. "I must depart. The questions in your mind will be answered in due time. I believe Mithrandir shall arrive soon."

With that being said, she dismissed herself soundlessly swift. Elrond watched her go with a gaze akin to wonder.

"Mithrandir's apprentice… A dragon… The Istari has much explaining to do."

000

She asked once for directions, and after the elf's quick and wary reply, she asked no more. Her nose told her enough. Eventually, she stood in front of the door and entered with a small knock. There, she released a small breath she hadn't realized she held as she stared at the sleeping figure of the little one she grew so fond of. He was still pale, but looked more at peace that he did before. It was unpleasant for Elysia to see the Halfling that she had warmed up to in all her years in the Shire, lively with those jovial innocent blue eyes, look so forlorn.

But she had little time to spend in her melancholic brooding, for by Frodo's bedside were three curly haired little hobbits. The first that sighted her immediately stood up and ran. His light caramel hair bounced as he leapt and promptly tackled her in an embrace. Being the dragon she was, Elysia did not fall over and merely stepped a little back as she held the hobbit in her arms.

"You're alive!" Pippin cried. "You're alright!"

Elysia could not hold back her small chuckle, and oh how Pippin relished the sound of her voice. He even missed her reprimanding glare and biting discipline.

"Yes, I am alright, Pippin." She laughed. "But I won't be if you keep choking me, dear Took."

Pippin immediately released her; looking sheepish and a little nervous as to if he harmed her. It was endearing.

Merry then ran and hugged her, but he did not leap. "You don't even look sick." He said in awe. It was true. Their Elly appeared much better off than Frodo. She looked radiant even, in the pale sky blue dress with her lustrous raven curls free from its usual braid and lively penetrating eyes.

Sam stood up from Frodo's side, looking a little sheepish. "We didn't think you'd be up so early, Miss Elly. We would have waited by your side if-"

"Nonsense, Sam. You were looking after Frodo. How is he?" She inquired as she glided to Frodo's bedside.

Sam frowned. "He hasn't woken."

Elysia leaned forward and carefully brushed a dark chestnut curl from Frodo's pallid face. Gentle and soft, she brushed his cheek. "But he is alive…" With those words, she stood straighter.

"Elly, you look different." Pippin suddenly blurted. Merry nudged him with a glare before smiling at her.

"He means a good different!" He corrected. They stared at her with flustered wonder. Elysia looked as pretty as the she-elves did, but with a more formidable air.

Elysia merely smirked and ruffled Pippin and Merry's curly head. "I'm a little starved." She admitted. It was an understatement, Elysia felt famished. Pippin smiled and tugged her skirt.

"The food is great here! Come on, Elly! We can get something to eat together!"

Pippin tugged her one more time and Elysia relented, but not before focusing her gaze to Sam.

"Sam, would you like to join us?"

Sam bit his lip and smiled, shaking his head. "No thank you, I think I'll stay by Mr. Frodo. See if he'll wake up."

Elysia felt a bittersweet pride rise at Sam's earnest concern for the young master of Bag End. It was bittersweet because of the guilt. Sam wouldn't have to be so worried if she had done something right and protected Frodo.

After seeing the sorrow in her eyes, Merry misunderstood and glared at Sam chidingly.

"For shame, Samwise Gamgee! How can you refuse a lovely lady! Are you really going to woo, Rosie Cotton with that sort of behavior?"

Sam turned pink and shook his head vigorously. "I-I didn't mean to offend you, Miss Elly!-"

"I am not offended, Sam." Elysia snorted before frowning softly. "I am merely sorry… Frodo was under my guard, and I have failed to protect him."

Sam frowned in disbelief at her. "Oh, Miss Elly, you can't think like that. That's ridiculous!"

"Are you kidding?" Pippin added. "You fought those black riders off like a dragon!"

Elysia froze, but her face looked highly amused. Indeed, she had fought a bit like a dragon, but only a bit…

"I thought you might be here." They turned to the voice at the door. Aragorn stood there, leaning against the door looking pristine in clean silver embroidered elven garb. His hair no longer held that glossy dank edge of grease and sweat, taking on a healthy wavy sheen. Even his scruff appeared neater.

Elysia leaned forward and inhaled once before smirking in great amusement. Aragorn cocked a brow and she simply snorted.

"You smell better than before, rather _kingly _even…" She chuckled at Aragorn's slight scowl; there was a bemused twinkle in his eyes.

"But you are still the raggedy ranger to me." She finished, bringing out a chuckle from the "raggedy ranger".

Then she spotted the familiar sight appear at the door, changed but familiar and still as dear to her as always. Bilbo Baggins gazed at Elysia with a soft smile. His wrinkles were more prominent and his hair was now white. He looked frail and old—as he should be—for with the Ring out of his possession, he could no longer cheat nature and time. But despite the wrinkles of that smile, it was still the smile of Bilbo. He was the same hobbit Elysia grew to respect; the same hobbit that surprised the dragon on so many occasions with his acts of courage and allowed her to stay at his pleasant abode.

And she failed him…. She failed him in protecting his beloved nephew. The sorrow behind the smile did not go unnoticed by the old Baggins. He kindly gestured to her for a few private words.

They walked through an empty hall. Elysia mindful to keep her pace slow for the old hobbit to keep up without strain.

"You and Frodo gave me quite the fright upon your arrival." He said.

Elysia remained silent.

"I don't blame you for what happened to Frodo… It was not your fault he was pursued by the black riders. If anything, I am at fault for passing such a burden to the boy." His voice was worn and regretful.

"He was under my care… You and Gandalf entrusted me and I failed."

"If you're going so far as to blaming yourself, then go scold and point fingers at Sauron." He snorted. "I do not blame you and nor do I think Gandalf would. Now stop your moping, dragon, and be a little happy to see me alive and well."

"… And old." She commented.

Bilbo gave her a lighthearted glare before they burst into chuckles.

"It's a pity…. My old age is getting to me… I was hoping to travel to laketown, Erebor, and even Mirkwood." He sighed forlornly. "But if I'm here, I might as well finish my book."

Elysia smiled at the hobbit and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulders.

"That's the spirit, my dear Baggins."

* * *

Read and Review please!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Winds of Change

While Elysia was capable of going without food and sleep for a prolonged amount of time, if the opportunity came to obtain the two in comfort, she snatched the chance faster than a viper would a crippled mouse. She ate enough for Pippin to comment that she had the "stomach of a dragon", which only made her laugh, and was content to spend her time sleeping or sitting with Sam by Frodo's bedside. Crowded areas and social situations with the elves in general were avoided. She spent her time reading, waiting by Sam for the little one, eating, sleeping, and occasionally wandering.

By the third day of her stay in Rivendell, Gandalf had arrived. He was a little weak and worn, but the hardy Istari wasted no time heading to Elrond.

"So it is true then." Elrond sighed, troubled deeply while Glorfindel was grim. They sat in chairs in a gazebo overlooking Rivendell.

"Yes." Gandalf said. "Saruman has betrayed us."

"Our list of allies grows thin, Mithrandir." Elrond frowned. Glorfindel tilted his head. "Speaking of the list… One particular ally is very peculiar."

Elrond's forehead furrowed and the slight glare he gave Gandalf was one of great inquisition.

"Yes… That apprentice of yours. You have been keeping a great deal of things revolving around her."

Gandalf said nothing, walking to the edge of the pavilion to gaze at the outstretched land. They waited patiently until he spoke.

"She has told you of what she is?"

"Yes, but too vague to satisfy our curiosity." Elrond stated. "Never in my years did I think such a thing existed. How long have you known?"

"A very long time…" Gandalf admitted.

"And you never thought to speak of it?" Elrond nearly growled.

Gandalf didn't look abashed or remotely guilty, but he remained silent. Glorfindel spoke lightly.

"What else have we misconceived in our long years? What do you know of the dragons?"

"They are elusive, proud, powerful, and when offended they can be volatile." Gandalf stated. "Those of them that do not remain solitary are often in clans. They are spread across the sea, earth, and sky and some are even hidden in plain sight."

"Yes, that much we certainly know." Elrond commented. "What else?"

"Well, plenty of other things." Gandalf stated. "They speak in an ancient tongue. I like to call 'draconian', but Elysia states they merely call it the 'ancient language'. The tongue itself is something I find completely bizarre, not for the way it sounds but its character… You cannot lie in the language… It is impossible."

"That sounds… Ludicrous." Glorfindel frowned. A language where they could only speak the truth?

"The origins are unknown; perhaps it was founded by the Maia in which they descended from. But a deep and ancient magic runs through that tongue…. Hatchlings know it from birth and oaths made with it are impossible to break…. As you have seen, they are capable of a more sociable form, and they vary with clan and every dragon. Some dragons have a love for treasure; some do not care for it… Some breathe fire, some spit venom, Elysia has enlightened me that some even shoot spikes from quilled tails and some serpents spit scalding water from their maws. Some have scales that glitter brighter than the brightest jewel, and some sleep for so long that they become mistaken for mountains with trees growing over them like fungi on a rock."

"But they are _not_ beings of evil." The wizard's voice turned soft but fierce. "They were not born slaves to the darkness as nothing but greedy, heartless serpents of death!" He whirled around and faced them, eyes sharpened to a glare as if to dare contradict him.

"They can commit great acts of kindness and great acts of destruction, and have as much cause to see to Sauron's end as the rest of us… They are certainly _not_ our foe!"

"So why have they not come to help?" Glorifidel asked. "If they have as much of a cause, why have we been given nothing but death and destruction upon their hands?"

"The dragons are not fools nor are they cowards, Glorfindel. They are wise and they know to be cautious. Is it a cowardly act to attempt in preserving their scarce race?" Gandalf's words were not refuted and he continued. "Sauron's reign of terror had crippled their kind. Elysia is proof of that…. She is a vestige of one of the greatest clan of dragons ever to exist."

His ferocity diminished in place of great sorrow. "That vestige… My old apprentice… Her clan has suffered the most... I fear she is the last of her own clan that lives and roams free. The rest vanished, either killed or enslaved."

"Enslaved?" Elrond was puzzled.

"Glaurung's origins are vague, are they not? What we know, or thought we know, was that he was the first dragon to be seen in Middle Earth and was spawned by Morgoth." Gandalf explained. "Glaurung was one of many victims, not creations, of the enemy's malice. He was naught but a hatchling, they say, when he was taken from his nest. Corrupted by the poison of Morgoth's darkness, he became a slave to the dark will, a mere empty shell of what he was or could have been. To steal or kill a hatchling is one of the greatest of sins amongst the dragons… Morgoth's first success was followed by many. Ancalagon the Black was his greatest work…. But his crimes against the dragons were nothing compared to what Sauron had done."

His eyes became glassy and the wrinkles of his face became more prominent. "The place in which my old apprentice had hatched, the home that she loved, is now known by her kind as Ristvak'baen, in their tongue."

The sound of the placed caused a wave of melancholy to wash over the two old elves.

"In the common tongue, it means Place of Sorrow… And sorrow has dwelt there, through ash and blood. Her clansmen were called the Dragons of the Storm. Remarkable fliers and fierce hunters they cared little for treasure or caves for the sky was their domain." Old and distant was Mithrandir's voice as he began to reminisce.

"I have seen their land once a very long time ago, before I was ever known as Mithrandir… In a different form… In a different life… It was a place so high you could touch the stars and the moon... The place where you come to fear and love the wrath of the heavens as it pours ice, water, and fire in the mightiest of storms… It was a place of beauty where you felt _free_. It all changed when Sauron himself led an army of enslaved to capture or kill every dragon both young and old on the Eyrie. He corrupted enough dragons with the power of the Ring, and brought upon a war where brotherhoods were shattered and families broken by blood."

Gandalf's eyes looked ready to spill tears. "Elysia had only been a child at the time, by dragon standards…. Barely able to fly… She witnessed a majestic, proud race… her own flesh and blood become nothing more than a shadow of their greatness…"

"And now, I am the representative of my race." Elysia stood under the arched gates of the gazebo, leaning against a spiraling pillar.

"The Eldest has selected me to stand in their place as a part of the Free Alliance." Her face gave away nothing of the ache within her upon remembering the downfall of her clan.

Gandalf's melancholy sobered into mild surprise. "And how long have you been dropping eaves, my dear stormdrake?"

"Enough to know you made your audience depressed." She deadpanned, aware of the deep sympathy residing in the two did not need it, nor did she want it. She did not mean to eavesdrop, only intended to greet Gandalf after she caught his scent. She wanted to see for himself if the old Istari was alright. Her eyes quickly looked over his gray form, something that the longtime teacher noticed.

He smiled kindly. "I am alright, my dear."

"So it seems." She stated tonelessly, hiding her worry and relief with a well-placed mode of nonchalance.

Gandalf chuckled, not fooled by her front. "Your old flight instructor asks of you."

"Oh?" She cocked a brow. "How fairs Gwahir? Has his feathers ruffled with age yet?"

"Ask him yourself. He's flying above Imaldris as we speak."

"And will there be any guarantees these Rivendell elves won't aim their pointy stick throwers? She scowled.

"I will see to it they won't." Glorfindel assured, trying not to smile at her peculiar description of the bows and arrows.

"But remember to keep near Rivendell." Gandalf sharply added, for these lands were concealed by Elrond's power, and the Eye would not think to even look here for any dragon even if Sauron sought one.

"Yes, yes, Gandalf." Elysia brushed off irritably. She wasn't a child anymore, for goodness sake.

She turned with a lazy wave before walking off with a little more bounce and haste in her steps, excited upon the notion of stretching her wings and soaring with an old friend. She disappeared from sight behind a few columns and trees. Within a few heartbeats and a gust of wind a blue blur skyrocketed into the air.

Elrond, Glorfindel, and many of the elves who witnessed the sudden take-off had never quite seen such a marvelous and majestic sight. Her scales glittered like a thousand sapphires while her agile body gave a slow spin, a large pair of wings beating down as she climbed higher and higher into the sky. Pale horns adorned her head, along with a line of ivory spines running down her neck.

"The sight is truly something to admire, is it not?" Gandalf asked as he also watched the dragon fly into the clouds.

"It is truly beautiful." Glorfindel admitted as he stood up, eyes still lingering where Elysia vanished. "I should spread word to the guards and the rest of the elves not to panic." He left in graceful haste.

"She is smaller than I anticipated." Elrond stated.

Gandalf nodded matter of factly. "Well yes, she prefers that form… If she were to revert to her actual size, I dare say that she might rival Smaug. But it's been a few centuries since I've seen it." He shrugged.

Elrond appeared startled at Gandalf's words. Just how large can she be?

"Can she breathe fire?" He asked.

Gandalf hesitated. "… If you could call it that, yes. She also has a few more tricks up her sleeve." Elrond was not surprised by this.

"She _is_ your apprentice." Elrond mused, still fascinated by the sight of Elysia's leave.

...

Elysia corkscrewed in the air, enjoying the sensation of her form cutting through the gale before she began to glide. Spotting the familiar brown figure to her right, she quickly tilted her wings and began to bank towards her old flying teacher.

"It's good to see you, Gwahir!" She called through the wind, slowing herself to glide by the great eagle.

"And you as well, my scaly friend!" Gwahir did a spin before speaking again. "What say you to a little flying match? Show those land dwellers how we sky people have our fun?!"

"Name your game, my feathered friend!" She loved a healthy competition like this.

"Let's see if you've improved. Flier sees as flier do! Shall I go first?!" Gwahir was flying around her, teasing her as he sized his wings to hers. His wing span was greater than hers by a little, as was his form, but by no means did the size give him any advantage in their flying game.

"I insist!" As soon as Elysia said those words, Gwahir swooped into a dive. He began to corkscrew at high speed and a hundred feet from the roofs of Imaldris, he made a loop in the air, still spinning before switching to a glide to end his move. Elysia growled a laugh at the challenge and followed with a sharp hairpin swerve towards the ground.

She spun even faster than Gwahir, keeping her wings bent closer to her body. No less than fifty feet from the ground did she make her loop, disturbing the flow of the fountain's with the great gales of her force. She made the long loop before spreading her wings into a glide. This was how one should live. Without gravity's limitations restraining them from truly seeing and feeling the thrill of the heavens. Elysia let out a small laugh and caught up to Gwahir's waiting form.

"My turn!"

...

"She couldn't be any more subtle." Gandalf grumbled as a gust of strong wind nearly took off his pointy gray hat.

Many if not all of the elves were peering up at the confounding spectacle. Some began to crowd to certain spots to see a better view of the challenge in the sky. A dragon flew high into the air with one of the great eagles in tow, and once she was at a level high enough to her satisfaction, she spread her wings and sharply turned backwards with a pivot, diving back towards the ground. A gasp echoed through the crowd as the dragon began to spin and flip simultaneously on her axis. As the ground neared, her wings snapped open once more, slowing her drop to a glide.

Gandalf laughed at the small claps in the crowd. It was indeed a sight to cheer at, for never in all their years of living did the fair immortals witness a Great Eagle and a dragon attempting to outmatch each other in air stunts. He sat comfortably on a bench and watched his former apprentice fly. She was truly an outstanding flier, even for a dragon of the storm. Elysia was born to fly.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn ran to the wizard, startled at his ease. His sword was drawn and ready for an ambush, but why was the wizard not even startled or armed? "Why is everyone cheering? Do they not see that there is a-"

"Dragon?" Gandalf finished with a smile. "Why yes. I dare say that is why they are cheering. Come, sit by me and watch the great game. It's quite the view."

He patted the empty seat next to his stone bench. Aragorn looked him over as if he had gone mad. Has his old age finally struck him? Or has that pointy hat of his addled his brain? Gandalf laughed at his scowl and pulled out his pipe. Another gust of wind struck them both as the eagle and the dragon began to fly in an intertwining manner, passing right above them at breakneck speed.

"My, those two always end up so competitive." Gandalf sighed, lighting his pipe with a little magic. Aragorn was baffled as he glanced back and forth from the aerial show to the wizard.

"You know the beast? The dragon, not the eagle." Aragorn knew Gandalf was well acquainted with Gwahir the Lord of the Great Eagles.

"Why yes… Yes I do. You do as well." Gandalf chuckled. "My apprentice is no stranger to you now, is she, Aragorn?"

Aragorn's jaw almost dropped, an impressive feat for this man was not easily startled enough to look so flabbergasted.

"Your appren-…" His head whipped to the dragon in the sky and back to Gandalf. "_Elysia? _Elysia is a _dragon_?"

"Yes…" Gandalf nodded as if he were commenting on the color of the sky. "Yes, she is."

The time has come for their Alliance to see the truth. It is time to give them hope. For they have lost a great ally, but they have also gained a powerful one; Elysia was the key to strengthening the Free Alliance. In all the time he watched her grow, taught her, and nurtured her, he had great hopes for Elysia's potential. She is the bridge between the Alliance and her powerful people. The Free People of Middle Earth needed every asset, every ally, they could find in this war.

He began to clap with the audience of Rivendell as Elysia did a particularly spectacular aerial maneuver.

000

In the air, they cheered for her and exclaimed praises of her ability. On the ground, their glances at her as she passed by in the shadows or wandered quietly about the garden were that of admiration and even greater fascination. They began to grow wise in their curiosity, realizing the more they approached her and confronted her, the more she made herself scarce. When they rush attention to her all at once like a tsunami, the more the dragon seemed to crawl back into her cave… Or room… Or roof… Or the library… Or the trees.

As fierce and foreboding as Elysia was, she was rather shy for old habits die hard. Throughout the centuries, she became well adept at hiding true natures, and it became a part of her lifestyle. There was nothing wrong with a few compliments but a flood of strangers that openly stared at her, approached her when she ate, or intercepted her when she walked felt quite alien. So they quelled their curiosity in hopes to make her more comfortable in her stay in Imaldris, but the dragon was keen. Elysia felt the pricks and prods of eyes directed her way when they thought she didn't see, or the whispers here and there.

Elysia sighed as she sat on the balcony's rail. Her feet dangled over the ledge. If someone perched there were to slip and fall, they would plummet down to the roaring rapids and rocky bottom bellow. A bundle of food rapped in a blanket of linen was hung against the rail beside her. In it was an assortment of raw foods, bread, and cheese. She had snuck into the kitchen rather than heading for the dining area this time. Content with the lack of people and lack of eyes, she listened to the rushing waters, rustle of leaves, and chirping birds fluttering about Rivendell while crunching on a carrot.

"Seems a little too dangerous to eat there."

Elysia didn't bother to turn, already having heard and smelled his approach.

"For you, perhaps." She remarked, chewing on her carrot.

Aragorn smirked and walked up to the balcony. He leaned his arms against the ledge and glanced down, assessing the great height before glancing at Elysia. She wore trousers under the skirt of a deep red and golden sleeved dress; her feet were bare while her hair was bound into a side braid. Perusing through the bundle of food, he frowned at some of the food items.

"Is this a raw potato?"

"They're not inedible if they aren't cooked." She replied.

"And is that meat?... Uncooked?"

"Indeed it is." Elysia confirmed nonchalantly as she bit another bite of her carrot.

Aragorn made a minor face of disgust. "Do you have a preference to raw food? It doesn't seem all that appetizing."

"Just because I can breathe fire, doesn't mean I sizzle everything to a crisp before eating it, raggedy ranger." Elysia said.

"Why not have the food in the dining hall?" Aragorn pressed.

Elysia sighed and finally turned her eyes to him. "I am eating here for a reason, Aragorn. Do you see anyone around us?"

"Would you like to be left alone then?" Aragorn stated, mildly hurt at her implication.

The dragon scoffed. "Oh don't give me those kitten eyes, raggedy ranger. I do not mind your presence, even when you are smelly and dirty." Aragorn snorted at her statement about his hygiene. He didn't waste time preening himself out in the wild and he was not an elf.

"It's the attention of the elves that I find cumbersome." She admitted

"They merely wish to know you. They have never encountered a dragon quite as docile as you."

"I am aware." Elysia sighed. "But that doesn't mean I'll grow adjusted or fond to it when they come like a hurricane."

"In time you will." Aragorn turned to the familiar old voice of Gandalf the Gray. The wizard walked towards them with the steady thump of his staff.

"Frodo will wake soon…" The old wizard stated.

Elysia stopped chewing, but would not turn to the wizard.

"Care to accompany me to await his awakening?" He asked.

Elysia still said nothing. She seemed to have lost her appetite. "No…. I don't think…." Her voice was soft, and she became more reserved.

Aragorn frowned while Gandalf merely sighed with a gaze of empathy. Glancing at the wizard and dragon, Aragorn silently stepped away to leave them be to a private discussion. As soon as Aragorn departed, Gandalf spoke.

"Elysia, I do not blame you for what happened."

"You should." Her voice was quiet. "I failed."

"You did no such thing." Gandalf remarked fiercely.

"You weren't there on Weathertop, Mithrandir." She snapped, her eyes flashing as she whipped her head around to glare at the wizard.

"Elysia."

"Save your sympathy for someone who deserves it." She turned away, glaring at the trees. Now every peaceful sight and sound seemed to mock her despair. A short dry laugh escaped her.

"They all admire the dragon that flies and fights so well, yet this bloody wyrm can't even protect a Halfling."

"Elysia!" Gandalf snarled. Elysia flinched like she did those many times under his tutelage, being scolded for trouble she made. "Enough of your wallowing! Do not dare belittle yourself! Frodo would not want any of this juvenile behavior!"

"Frodo…" She hissed. "Almost died because of my failure."

"You cannot protect everyone in a war, Elysia." Gandalf's anger diminished. "If anything, it is I who should be the most remorseful… I should have taken more care into your warning."

Elysia remained silent for a long moment before she responded dryly. "I always hated that wizard."

"You've hardly ever met him." Gandalf managed to chuckle. "But I am grateful he never met you."

"You know, Ebrithil… I always wondered." She turned to him, looking less forlorn. "You have always been the wisest and the most pure of heart out of the Istari… If anything, you are more deserving of the title of White Wizard than that sour old hag of a wizard."

The old wizard smiled at the dragon. There was a long pause before he spoke.

"Thank you, Elysia." He said sincerely. "Coming from you, it is the greatest compliment I have ever been bestowed."

"Better than my compliment about your eyebrows?" She teased

"My dear, any compliment is better than 'thickness that rivals the hair on hobbit feet'." The Istari grumbled good-naturedly.

000

Needless to say, Merry, Pippin, and Sam were shocked, but they did not estrange her in fear she might burn them to a crisp or swallow them whole. It was hard to wrap around the idea that they had a dragon residing with the Shire, disciplining them, eating with them, helping them with chores so trivial for a mighty creature of legends.

"So is that why you're always so warm? And why you eat so much? And why you're so strong?" Pippin fired questions like elves would fire an arrow, but Elysia didn't mind their curiosity. They had a right to be enlightened, considering they grew up with her presence.

"Pippin! You don't ask a lady about how much she eats!" Merry sounded mortified. Elysia simply laughed. They were sitting in a garden, Elysia was up on a low tree branch, leaning against the tree while Merry and Pippin were dipping their feet into the creek. They managed to have Sam leave Frodo's side for a bit, and the hobbit was sitting against the base of the tree smoking his pipe weed admiring the view of Rivendell's gardens.

"Yes. You can call it a dragon thing, I suppose, and no, Pippin. I have never eaten a person." She answered Pippin's question before he opened his mouth.

"You must have flown all over the Shire." Sam was at wonder at the idea of flying.

"Yes, and many other places beyond the western shores of Middle Earth."

Sam could only imagine what that was like. Merry looked up at her perch.

"What's it like? Flying?" He asked.

Elysia's smirk grew whimsical. "It's the freest experience, Merry. No limits, no restraint, just pure freedom. You start to see the world different, much smaller in the air."

"And probably much scarier, considering how high you are." Sam shuddered at the thought of being up so high.

"Well… Scary, for a flightless hobbit, but to those with wings it is a thrilling experience."

While Pippin and Merry began pondering on the prospect of wings, Sam stood up.

"Well, I should get back to Mr. Frodo… Gandalf said he might be up any day now." He looked up to Elysia. "Are you going to come, Miss Elly?"

Elysia's smile didn't reach her eyes. She hesitated before responding. "Go on without me, Sam. I will come at another time."

Sam merely looked a bit more sullen but didn't argue and headed for Rivendell's stairs.

000

The light hurt his eyes, but it was warm. The dull ache on his chest throbbed, but he was somewhere comfortable and plush. His mind was awake before his body, but slowly he began to feel his muscles obeyed his commands. Frodo moved his head and grimaced.

"Where am I?" This place wasn't the Shire. The bed felt different, the air smelled different.

"You are in the House of Elrond…" An old voice answered him. "It is ten o'clock in the morning, on October the 24th, if you want to know."

That voice… He knew that voice…

Frodo's eyes fluttered open and they fell on a familiar sight of an old bearded man with a pipe.

"Gandalf." His voice was weak from its prolonged disuse.

"Yes, I'm here." Gandalf smiled, gray eyes twinkling. "And you're lucky to be here. A few more hours and you would have been beyond our aid. You have some strength in you, my dear hobbit." He praised.

It was truly a remarkable feat. Hobbits, particularly the Baggins of Bag End, never ceased to surprise Gandalf. To have resisted against such a foul wound for that amount of time and live to tell the tale… This hobbit was truly strong.

Frodo winced as he tried to sit up, the wound throbbing in protest. He recalled many things and had many questions.

"What happened Gandalf? Why didn't you meet us?" He asked.

The gray wizard looked apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry Frodo… I… was delayed." It was an understatement. He looked lost in some disturbed thought. Frodo glanced around the room, looking for any sign of his friends. But it was only Gandalf and a male elf, standing behind the wizard.

_Where were his friends? Were they alright? Did they make it to Rivendell? Where was Elly? What happened to those black riders?_

"Frodo?" A voice snapped the wizard out of his reverie and Frodo from his thoughts. Sam rushed into the room, looking relieved beyond measure.

"Frodo!" Sam grasped Frodo's hand.

"Sam." Frodo smiled, never happier to see his friend.

"Bless you, you're awake!" Sam exclaimed while Gandalf chuckled. "Sam has hardly left your side."

"Everyone is worried about you, weren't they Mr. Gandalf?" Sam was ecstatic to see the master Baggins looking very much alive.

"By the skills of Lord Elrond, you're beginning to men." Gandalf turned to the tall dark haired elf.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins."

Frodo smiled and then looked around and about. The smile began to wane into wonder, and Gandalf knew what troubled the hobbit's mind.

"She has been gravely worried for you, my dear hobbit." Sam knew whom Gandalf spoke of and added.

"Miss Elly has been very sad… She blames herself for what happened. Please tell her it isn't her fault, you don't blame her do you Mr. Frodo?" Sam wasn't a fool. He didn't miss how Elysia looked pained every time her eyes fell on Frodo's unconscious form or when she stiffened at the mentioning of his condition.

"Blame her for what?" Gandalf smiled at Frodo's genuine confusion. "For me getting hurt? Is that why she isn't here?" Elysia had always been there when Frodo needed him. When he fell into a pond and nearly drowned, she had pulled him out. When he fell sick, she did not leave the Shire and instead read a story or told him something about dragons while warming him with her heat. When he first cried at night because of a nightmare about his parents, she held him close and murmured softly with her soothing voice.

Gandalf said nothing, but his silence was an answer enough. Frodo sighed and frowned.

"What a foolish dragon." He muttered, and froze when he realized in mortification of what he just said.

But Sam looked amazed. "Oh, you knew, Mr. Frodo? How long did you know Miss Elly was a dragon?"

"She told you?" Frodo frowned, startled and confused.

"She didn't just tell." Gandalf chuckled. "She showed them. Needless to say, many elves were startled."

Elrond shook his head in mild exasperation. "That is an understatement."

Frodo grimaced as he began to move a little more to the edge. When his feet touched the ground, a gust of strong wind brought his attention to the balcony.

In a shimmer of blue scales, she descended; majestic, graceful, and radiant. Her great wings stirred the wind like an oar stirring the waters and landed on the balcony with a nimble touch. Her tail swished around her lean form, stirring up a little breeze of wind with its symmetrical fin. Those argent blue eyes gazed upon him with the same affection and gentleness as they always have, beaming with pride at his recovery.

"Little one…" Her voice was like music to his ears, and Frodo did not hesitate to greet the fearsome drake.

"Elly!"

Elrond thought he would seldom ever see a more beautiful sight than the young, mending hobbit immediately standing and rushing towards the majestic creature with such jovial adoration and the dragon focusing and treating the hobbit with such tender care and warmth. Her scales sparkled in the midmorning light, speckling the room with blue rays of light reflected from the jewel-like sheen. The hobbit embraced the legendary creature, not even hesitating or considering the thought that he was wrapping—or trying to wrap—his arms around a creature whose anger and might could obliterate an entire village in one fell swoop.

It was at that very moment, Elrond was more than convinced of Gandalf's words. This creature was no being of evil. A being of malcontent would not be capable of showing such genuine fondness and would not relent to being held by a being of such innocence. What he witnessed at that moment was too beautiful to ever have any trace of evil.

"I dare say you have the will of a dragon, young Master Baggins." Elysia lifted a front leg—or her hand—and carefully pressed the small creature closer to her form, mindful her claws would not prick him.

"Dearest Elly. I was wondering when you would show." Frodo said worriedly. "And don't blame yourself for what happened. If anything, we shouldn't have made such a racket."

She snorted, ruffling his curly hair with hot wind. "Enough… What's done is done…. You are alive and well, and for that I am very happy."

Frodo laughed and pressed his cheek against her hard scales, not minding the roughness. If he wasn't careful he would nick his skin if he went the wrong way, but Frodo had done this enough times to be no amateur in hugging dragons. "I suppose the secret is out then."

"And that bothers you?" Elysia tilted her head.

"Well… Yes, I'll admit it does, but it's a relief for you, isn't it?" He can't lie to a dragon, especially Elly. The secrecy had a flare of fun and charm to it while it lasted.

"But does this mean you won't be in the Shire anymore?"

Elysia nudged him with her wing. "Foolish little hobbit. Do you think you can get rid of this dragon that easily?"

Frodo giggled at this, and Elysia parted the embrace, unfurling her wings and twitching her tail.

"Are you going to shrink shift, yet?" Frodo asked.

Elysia released a snort and rumbled. "Not yet… Today, I am a _dragon!"_ With a graceful leap off the balcony, she spent a moment freely falling before she snapped her wings wide and began to soar up with a powerful beat of her wings. Frodo laughed and watched as she began to fly and weave the canyon, nearing the falls before diving parallel with the falling waters and then with a slight tilt of her fin and wings, glided lower across the gorge.

As if to announce and celebrate Frodo's recovery, the sapphire dragon spat a starry ball of blue that burst in the air in a small shockwave of flame and pierced through the fading fire with a spin.

Having never witnessed Elysia's form fly so freely and even release a bit of that odd explosive flame, Frodo stared and grinned from ear to ear. Gandalf chuckled and stood by Frodo's side.

"You teach a dragon a thing or two about fireworks, and they will twist it into something even more astounding." He mused.

000

Elysia sat on the window's ledge, watching over her hobbit friends. Sam was beginning to pack, looking ready to leave, as did Frodo. Elysia released a sigh. Frodo had always dreamed of being off an adventure, to follow Bilbo's footsteps, but when he left the Shire, his journey turned out to be much darker and more perilous than the old hobbit. Elrond and Gandalf were in the room with her, following her gaze to the Halflings.

"That wound will never fully heal, will it?" Her eyes did not waver from Frodo, who was looking better and better by the day, but still had that pale lackluster haunting his face.

"He will bear it for the rest of his life." Gandalf confirmed somberly.

Elrond paced. "Yet to have come so far, bearing the Ring, the hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil."

Elysia fought back a growl, her eyes flashed and hardened with fire, whipping to Elrond.

"It is a burden he should never have had to bear!" She snapped.

Gandalf laid a hand on the dragon's shoulder to keep her anger at bay. She scowled still, and swung her legs from the edge to face Elrond with her full attention.

"We cannot ask more of Frodo." Gandalf said in agreement to Elysia's response.

Elrond appeared frustrated. "The enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the east, and his eye is now _fixed_ upon Rivendell!" It was precisely the reason why Elysia refrained from flying once more, for she too had sensed a great shadow slowly crawling to Imaldris.

"And Saruman has betrayed us." Elrond added through tight jaws.

"His treachery runs deeper than you know." Gandalf stated grimly, beginning to pace. "He has crossed orcs with goblin men, he's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. It's an army that can move in sunlight, and in great distance and speed. Saruman is coming for the ring."

Elysia grimaced at the mere thought of the new repulsive. Elrond paled and looked equally disgusted.

"This evil cannot be concealed by the elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Morder and Isengard!" Elrond despaired. "The Ring cannot stay here."

Elysia said nothing while Gandalf paced in troubled thought. She cast her eyes back towards the land of Rivendell. Elrond was summoning a secret council to decide the fate of the Ring. She was to attend, but both Elrond and Gandalf decided it would be best to keep her true identity a secret, for it was imperative that the enemy was unaware of the new addition to the Alliance. The card would be revealed when the time is right. Therefore, Elysia would attend as Gandalf's apprentice and advisor to Elrond, secretly representing a race of powerful beings.

000

Silvindr's edge mirrored the great sky as it was drawn and stilled in the air horizontally, its thin edge barely visible as Elysia lined it perfectly straight at eye level. Her hand gently touched the falchoin's blunt edge and closed her eyes, breathing deeply in… and then out…. Her eyelids snapped open and faster than the naked human eye could see she slashed the sword through the air. It was eerily soundless, akin to a silent breeze... a deathly silent breeze.

An autumn leaf fell, but moments before it touched the ground, it split into two pieces and landed in separate ways.

Silvindr swept through the air once again and this time, Elysia began to move forward. Her toes were pointed this way and that as she shifted from side to side and spun. Herr blade whirled around her like a twister, daring any to attempt in approaching. While the sword didn't feel as stimulating in her hand as in comparison to Faersing, Elysia deeply treasured the falchion. It was the sword forged by the Eldest long ago, and it was the highest honor she could ever imagine being bestowed by her great kin. The handle and guard was the color of the pale scales of the Eldest, while the long curved blade was of a more silvered hue that never lost its luster. But Elysia made sure to polish the blade anyway when time could be spared. Silvindr had won her many battles and cut through her enemies with the force of a deadly gale.

But it was Faersing that never truly failed her. Whenever it was summoned, its might was as destructive the powerful strike of the storm. It was as much a part of Elysia as every scale on her body and every tooth and claw. Silvindr and Faersing were the two priceless treasures Elysia truly hoarded.

She left Faersing in its dormant state within the scabbard and felt a little halfhearted in her sword dance without her second blade.

"You are as quick as an elf with a blade, Lady Elysia." Elysia halted Silvindr in mid swipe.

Her form's flow disturbed, she turned to see the source of the voice and laid eyes upon Glorfindel. He had shed his armor this time and was donned in thin leather gear. An elvish blade in hand, he gave a slight bow.

"May I have the honor of joining you?" He requested, gesturing to his sword. Elysia gave a hesitant nod and rotated her sword around her before spreading her feet wider into a slightly crouched stance. Glorfindel raised his blade perpendicular to the ground, placing a palm flat against its gleaming side.

The glint of his blade began the spar. In a swish of starry silver light, the formidable blades collided with a high chime of metal striking metal. The blades pushed at each other with immense force, but the play in strength became a stalemate. The falchion eventually shoved the blade to the side, but Glorfindel was clever as he fluidly stepped to the side and whirled around, dodging the sharp point of the falchion. His blade came down only to be blocked again and so began the rhythmic chime as the two swordsmen danced.

The elf was fast and moved with more fluidity and elegance. Glorfindel moved smoothly with such a flow it felt as though he was toying with her, basing his moves more on the defensive with the occasional strikes.

The dragon's movements were nimble, but less smooth. Rather than elegance, she moved with ferocity. Her stance was resilient, firm, yet supple.

Elysia's eyes sparked with delight at the challenge, but her lips were curved down. The fearless elf was toying with her. While they seemed on par in speed and skill, it was his experience that gave him the greater step… And this was a mere spar. They could not move with the aim to kill, and while Glorfindel was more tuned in control, a dragon can have some difficulties in restraint with their competitive nature and might. It took years of honing with Gandalf for Elysia to have the restraint she did today. However old and powerful this High Elf maybe, Elysia felt her dignity sting from his prick as he sparred more to analyze her, making it seem it wasn't very challenging.

So Elysia stifled her rising aggravation. The childish emotion would do nothing to benefit her and would most likely have the elf think of her less. But she was Mithrandir's apprentice, and she had tricks up her sleeve.

Glorfindel's eyes widened minutely, the only indication that he was startled for Elysia had done something off putting like a sudden sharp turn. Her hold on Silvindr changed in mid strike to a reversed grip. The change altered her movement for a much more direct approach. Feet wider apart and stance more crouched; she feinted right and pivoted left, knocking Glorfindel's sword hand aside with a sharp elbow jab. It was Glorfindel's sharp reflexes and quick mind that managed to aid him at the last second.

Elysia glared up at Glorfindel, stance unwavering. She blew at a stray curl tickling her cheek. Silvindr's edge was a centimeter from Glorfindel's pale neck, his pulse beating as the blade hovered dangerously close to the pulsing artery. She had passed through Glorfindel's guard and stood low and very close so that her elbow touched his sternum, and her foot placed between the gap of his legs.

"How swift and silent is your sword, Lady Dragon." Glorfindel smiled, recovering from his mild surprise.

"But the victory is yours." Elysia stated. For as victorious as she seemed upon first glance, Glorfindel's sword was beneath her, close to her stomach. If it had been a duel to the death, his blade could have bisected her or gutted her stomach.

Glorfindel chuckled. The sound immediately ended the tension as the two began to disentangle themselves to a more passive position. Elysia returned her hold to the common grip and combed the stray locks that escaped her braid from her face with a lazy rake of her hand. Glorfindel calmly assessed her and despite his youthful vigor and appearance, Elysia was reminded that he was far older than her in both mind and time, for she was still considered young by her kind and Glorfindel had lived through the ages through many great battles.

"It's fairer to say it was a draw, for you could have beheaded me."

Elysia pondered at this and merely shrugged. Perhaps that was true, but they would never know. Glorfindel stared at the blade with mild interest.

"Was I wrong to think you had another blade?" He didn't see the blue long sword anywhere.

"No." Elysia began to wipe Silvindr's polished edge. "Faersing resides within my quarters. It's a bit too volatile for a spar."

"Volatile?" Glorfindel tilted his head and raised a fair brow with mild confusion. "You speak as though it…"

"Has a mind of its own?" She glanced from her polishing. "Yes. I'd like to think it does have some sentience, considering it doesn't appreciate any other wielder than I. My scale and flame was involved in its forging."

The lord elf sheathed his blade and placed a delicate finger beneath his chin in an image of great intellectual thought.

"A part of you resides with the blade?" He mused. "It sounds not unlike the Ring of Power. Sauron poured a part of his evil into the Ring, and so it became an extension of his dark will." His eyes grew hard at the thought.

Elysia scowled at this. "As similar as it may seem, that is a morbid comparison Lord Glorfindel." She deadpanned. The thought of comparing a beautiful sword like Faersing to something as wretched and accursed as the Ring, however powerful the finger trinket was or however nice the polished gold gleamed, was nauseatingly repulsive. It was an insult to the sword and to its master. Faersing may be destructive, but it bore no ill will and malcontent and did not deceive with poisoned whispers. It was the bane of its enemy, and the enemy was the Forsworn and his servants.

Glorfindel's hard eyes softened. He gave a small bow. "I meant no offense, lady dragon. It is impudent to compare you to something so abominable."

Elysia accepted his apology with silence, gazing at Silvindr with a little grimace. Glorfindel held his hands behind his back and mused.

"You are an ambidextrous swordsman." She frequently changed sword hands when they sparred, not favoring one or the other; she was equally skilled in wielding weapons in both.

Elysia nodded. "But wielding one sword isn't my best fighting style." She admitted. "It's always a little off putting on my balance." In a true battle that required all of her skill

Glorfindel blinked. "You are a dual swordsman?" She nodded, feeling self-conscious at the fascination evident in his eyes, curling a hair behind her ear as though she were preening her wings. Her dual swordsmanship was odd, for she wielded asymmetrical swords, a long sword and a falchion.

"Are they all as adept as you, lady dragon?" He asked.

"I'm only better than the usual because I've had a teacher." She stated. "But to those with this more sociable form." She gestured to her body. "Even ones who never had an official lesson will be formidable, because we dragons have a key advantage that comes naturally out of instinct."

She rotated Silvindr lazily in her hand. "A dragon cannot be fooled easily, even the most foolhardy ones. I can see past the feinting of my opponents." Then glanced at Glorfindel with mild admiration. "But you elves are very fast and fluid, and I know you were holding back. You're the better swordsman than I, lord Glorfindel."

"… You are a marvelous fighter, Lady Elysia." Glorfindel praised.

"And I will always be the better flier." She smirked teasingly. Glorfindel released a mild laugh and nodded. They departed after sharing a few more pleasantries. Elysia smiled and inhaled the pleasant aroma as the breeze caressed her face. Releasing a long sigh, she reached for her braid and gently tugged the ribbon loose. Her black curls began to unfurl and fly loose through the wind while her pale green tunic ruffled and rippled against her slender form.

Twas then that she sensed him, as how one would spot a green leaf through the burning hue of the autumn foliage.

Her gaze slowly travelled from the lush grass and scattered leaves, up the spiraling poles, and landed upon the tall figure standing at the upper levels of an open balcony. Tall as a young tree and enveloped by garbs of soft silver, his fair, aristocratic face gazed down at her as his lissome frame leaned forward.

Hands that could easily string a great war bow gently grasped against the rail. Silken sunlit hair held back by a braid, eyes of bright blue hue that rivaled the gleam of Elysia's scales, with a chiseled jaw clenched in wary astonishment, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of the Woodland Realms of Mirkwood locked eyes on her face and absorbed her features, clearly caught unaware at her presence as she was by his.

He stared at her, for that was all he could do in his surprise. The prince had seen her spar, seen her fight, and for a moment thought his elf eyes had deceived him, but there she stood in the open; her ebony curls lifted, its lustrous waves brushed by the hand of the wind while those penetrating silvered blue eyes, rimmed by long lashes within its almond shaped frame, scrutinized him in a smooth angled face of pale carved stone. The sight of her struck him like lightning. He least of all expected _her_ to be here. Never did the Mirkwood prince think he would see her again...

But he had always hoped...

Her petite frame stood tall, but angled away from him, giving her head and gaze the added flare of defiance he saw far too often on her in those seldom times they encountered each other. With that look, the unyielding elegance of her stance, her hair freely flowing, and the starry falchion in her grasp, Elysia appeared before him—or below him—as fearsome as ever.

The tension between them could be sliced by her blade. The winds whispered as the swirled around the two, as if to attempt to ease the intensity and the rigidity of the atmosphere with its touch. But the wind could not severe the combating gazes that met at an unspoken and unseen standstill.

"Legolas!" It was Legolas who broke the eye-lock. The prince turned to see his old friend come at him with a smile.

Aragorn opened his arms to embrace the elf. "_Mae g'ovannen!_" He greeted his friend.

"Estel." Legolas smiled. "It is good to see you."

When they parted the embrace, Legolas turned back to gaze down at the fierce woman and her falchion.

… Only to find that there was emptiness where she had been. The wind stirred some grass in the empty place, brushing the stray leaves off the area where she once stood.

Aragorn followed his friend's eyes with a puzzled frown. "What is it?" The prince seemed to be distracted by something or deep in thought. He was gazing at an empty area.

The woodland elf's eyes narrowed. "… T'is nothing."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Calm Before the Storm

His presence surprised her. Elysia did not expect Thranduil to send his one and only heir to the Council of Elrond. She assumed it would have been someone close, perhaps Tauriel, but to send his son? Legolas's appearance, although she disliked admitting, unnerved the dragon. She had not encountered him since the quest for Erebor, and their relationship was questionably undefinable for they were certainly not the closest of friends nor were the encounters very civil. But she bore no resentment for the Woodland prince. In fact, she would like to think she bore close to nothing for the Greenleaf. Her time in the Shire had helped to bury and rid herself of any discernible emotion to Legolas. She did, however, had a much more discernible relationship with Tauriel. They respected each other, Tauriel had the ferocity of a dragon and Elysia own aggressive edge was something the she-elf greatly admired.

While she did not despise the prince, his presence was still discomforting. She was even on much better terms with King Thranduil than the elven archer.

Elysia swept through the corridor in haste to get to her room. The Council of Elrond was to begin soon, and she needed to prepare herself to become presentable in representative authority and elven in style as much as possible. She was the "advisor to Elrond" after all.

She stopped in midstride when she caught a familiar scent and sight. Her head swiveled to the far off bridge, partially hidden in the foliage. There, in the dim but lovely glow was an even lovelier sight. Elysia was no romantic, but even she could not deny the enchanting beauty of the scene playing out before her.

There, standing on the bridge, hidden in the shadows of leaves stood Lady Arwen with none other than the raggedy ranger. Aragorn held the fair elf maiden's hands tenderly in his own, tall enough to be bending his head down while the maiden looked up at him with the most loving of expressions. They were whispering to each other, but Elysia was too far to hear under the gurgle of the river and the whisper of the wind. She quickly averted her gaze and continued her walk. It was not something she felt she could set eyes on. She respected the two people, and the matter between the dunedain and his love was no business of hers.

But she couldn't help be mildly impressed, for the raggedy ranger had wooed a lovely _elf_ maiden of noble status. Aragorn was a good man, and Elysia had the inkling he would make a fine king, but he was mortal. Elysia knew, as an immortal, the great sorrows that the brevity of mortal life can give, and their love was bound for a great sacrifice. But she supposed that was what entailed with a love so strong; sacrifice. Her mother had done the strongest act of love and committed the greatest sacrifice. She was no stranger to the painful concept. Whether romantic love was different, she knew not for she had never fallen in love, but witnessing the love between the elf and the mortal, she could say with certainty that there would be a great sacrifice.

She entered her quarters just as a maidservant placed a set of clothing neatly on the bed. The she-elf appeared momentarily startled by the dragon's sudden coming in. Elysia placed Silvindr neatly against the corner with Faersing while the maidservant bowed.

"Lord Elrond requests you wear this to the Council, my lady."

Elysia peered curiously at the white and deep royal blue material and found small pleasure in discovering the pair of leggings with the outfit. Nodding her thanks, she went to the bath where hot water was drawn and ready. This time, she did not protest to the maidservant's aid. The elf's assistance would help her look more befitting, in case she presented herself a little too crassly. She made quick work with cleaning her hair and her body of any dirt or grime. The maidservant began to work floral oils into her hair, disentangling the black locks. The maidservant was quiet for most of the time, humming and singing in elvish. When the washing was done and the dragon was dried, Elysia donned the clothes and allowed the maiden to do her hair.

"Your hair is lovely, milady." The maiden commented as she brushed the hair one last time with an ivory comb. The dark elegant curls sprung as they were freed from its teeth. Elven hair was silken and commonly smooth with the occasional delicate waves. Elysia's hair held more volume in its thicker strands; her hair would be another small clue to her non-elven nature. She made sure to have her ears visible, hoping the points would deceive the men of the council.

000

Frodo straightened his jacket one last time before heading out of his quarters, anxious and unsure of what to expect during the Council. He turned and froze, head jerking back in surprise at the woman walking his way.

Her strides were long and purposeful, the skirt of her attire billowing behind her, rippling like a blue pond. Her dress—if it could be called that—was of rich royal blue tone like the deepest and cleanest waters in the Shire, bordered with white and leafy patterns of silver. The sleeves ended with long white wings that glided with her skirt, decorated with delicate silver patterns akin to the decorations displayed in the architecture of the House of Elrond. Black boots and leggings were unveiled, for the skirt was split to allow her to walk freely without the need to lift up her skirt. The split was seamed as it rose higher in a crisscross manner of silver strings binding it on her upper body before splitting once more to a wide V at her bosom. Her hood was up, and the white border of the hood seemed to emphasize the dark quality of her elegant curls, shadowing her face for a mysterious appeal.

Elly…. No… _Elysia_ looked as though she held as much authority as Lord Elrond or Glorfindel. No longer was she in the common tunic and trousers she wore so often at home or one of those fair elven dresses she donned occasionally. The noble attire made her look as formidable as she did in her travelling garb during their journey to Rivendell. This maiden walking to him is no longer Elly Walkins.

She is Lady Elysia, Apprentice of Mithrandir, Dragon of the Storm.

Elysia tilted her gaze under the hood, curious as to why Frodo was staring at her with such shock, his blue eyes wide and unblinking.

"Little one?" She stopped in front of him. "Frodo? Are you alright?"

Frodo jerked at the sound of his name and shook his head. "Elly, you look… different."

Elysia cocked a brow under the hood. "Well it would be a little tactless of me to wear what I usually wear in the Shire to a secret council meeting of the Free People, do you not think?"

At her dry remark, Frodo laughed. Whether she is dressed in rags or riches, Elly was still Elly.

"Yes… You could come as a dragon?" He suggested teasingly.

"And have the men soil themselves? I think not, little one." She mused. "Now care to escort this lady to the meeting, Master Baggins?"

Frodo grinned and held out his elbow, causing Elysia to chuckle for he was a good foot and a half or so shorter. Not minding the absurdity in the image, Elysia managed to reach down and hook her hand on his arm.

She sat beside Frodo, sandwiching him between her and the gray Istari. His previous cheer faded, and now he looked nervous. Elysia fought the urge to wrap an arm around him, for they were in a council of males and Frodo must not look like some fragile babe, neither must she look like some coddled tender hearted maiden. The men of Gondor already laid their eyes upon her with curiosity and desire as she lowered her hood to unveil a fair face that complimented the fair lithe body. Eyes lingered on her curves and face, and some even had the audacity to gaze with blatant scorn; the men and the dwarves for elves did not have that gender discrimination as the other races did.

But then Elysia sat, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on the arms of the seat as her fingers lightly intertwined with each other. With the tilt of her head and a mask of apathy and ice, those pale orbs flickered she speared each and every man, dwarf, and elf with a dangerous thunder underneath the stoicism. Many of the males quickly averted their eyes and some even shuffled in their seat; feeling cowed under the intensity blazing in her gaze. She was no stranger to them, and she was not merely any woman otherwise they would have voiced their disdain. Apprenticed to the wise Istari and now advisor to the Lord Elrond, the woman's appearance and her status was not to be trifled with. Even if she is a female.

There was one who did not avert his gaze, and it was not Aragorn, for he merely gave her a nod and smile before looking away to greet the others. Bright blue eyes bore into her sharp gaze, but not wanting to play another staring game she looked away and waited like a statue. Gimli peered at her curiously. So this was the woman who aided in the quest for Erebor? Balin had spoken highly of her, and said her aid was great in the Battle of the Five Armies as well as bringing forth the desolation of Smaug. While her figure looked far to petite to look formidable, she had the eyes of a warrior.

Gandalf leaned over Frodo, towards Elysia.

"My dear, you _are_ supposed to look as though you have authority… But that does not mean you must jab these men with the gaze of daggers" He muttered audibly for Frodo to hear.

"I have no idea what you speak of, Ebrithil." She responded innocently.

"Any sharper and they'll burst into flame." He grumbled with a twinkle of amusement. Frodo fought the urge to smile while Elysia simply looked as stoic as ever.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." Elrond began, standing and gazing at each and every one of them. "Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall."

Men, dwarves, and elves glanced at each other as Elrond continued.

"Each of you is bound to this fate, this one doom…" He turned to the hobbit, who looked as somber as any of the old males.

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The hobbit did, and as he slowly placed the golden band upon the flat surface of stone, whispers and hushed sounds of exclamation spread amongst the males. Elysia remained silent but her gaze hardened and her arms stiffened.

A man began to rise, lowering his hand from the tanned bronze scruff of his chin. Boromir, a steward of Gondor, stared at the golden treasure with a gaze of awe and desire. It did go unnoticed by Elysia as he stood up and began to speak.

"In a dream… I saw the eastern sky go dark…" His words were soft and clear, but as he drew closer to the center, towards the Ring, a new voice began to murmur like a boiling froth of poison rising and rising around Elysia's ears. The whispers grew clearer, more distinct, more venomous than before. Promises of freedom, of power, of _restoration_…

Boromir reached for the ring, but before he could even touch the polished gold, Gandalf rose from his seat.

Elrond glared at the man. "Boromir!" He warned, but Gandalf took it further.

"_**Ash nazg durbatulûk,"**_

The effect was instantaneous. Darkness began to veil the area, tremors began to quiver the very ground. Gandalf's voice rumbled and a guttural whisper in the shadows began to surge.

"_**ash nazg gimbatul,"**_

The elves looked pained, the dwarves held their axes in fright, and the men began to look left and right. The hobbit was confused, chilled by the darkness and Gandalf's voice growling and echoing in the sinister language. Frodo whipped his head to Elysia at the sound of a crack. Elysia was holding onto armrests, rigid and strained. The pressure of her hands was too great for the armrests. Veins began to bulge on her neck as she clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, looking even more agonized than the elves.

He wanted Gandalf to stop whatever he was doing. Can't the wizard see what it was doing to Elly?

"_**ash nazg thrakatulûk,"**_

Elysia's mind was at war. For the whispers from the Ring were tempting, sorely tempting. Any dragon would be drawn to it, succumbed to the fine gold splendor, hoard its great power and worth, but Elysia's spirit knew better. Because as tempting as this accursed Ring was, as beautiful as it may seem, the mere sight of it was torture, a fiery double edged blade.

She was not _any_ dragon. She was a survivor of the massacre, the direct witness to how her Eyrie became known as the Place of Sorrow. She was there when Sauron himself came; in a storm of ash and death with the Ring of Power in his possession. The very same Ring placed at the center of this Council, shining with the same golden gleam, whispering words of great evil. And that trauma had clung to her for all these centuries, for she shall never forget the day when the blood rained, ash snowed, and winds moaned with the agony of her people. The nightmares clashed with the persistent promises and beauty in the Ring. She felt hatred for it, burning away at the rising desire. How dare did the Ring promise her restoration of her clan when it was the bane that annihilated it?

And now, as Gandalf spoke in the foul black tongue, the Ring seemed to raise its sinister voice, and with it the memories that would shake the spirit of any dragon. She wanted to clasp her ears and scream or roar, but her insides felt cold and her muscles were frozen.

"_**agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."**_

The darkness dissipated and light was restored as soon as Gandalf finished his words. But Elysia hardly looked relieved. Elrond glared at the wizard.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here, in Imaldris." His voice was hard with anger.

Gandalf looked a little shaken himself for speaking the foul language, but he remained adamant.

"I do not ask your pardon, Maser Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in _every_ corner of the west!" He focused his glare at Boromir. "The Ring is altogether evil!"

He turned but froze at the sight of his old apprentice. The dragon was still rigid, eyes wide and unblinking. Her face was a blank mask, but her eyes screamed of suffering and agony. Remorse immediately swept over the Istari, for he knew her long and well enough to know what was going through her mind. He knew of the detrimental trauma, was forced to witness a part of Elysia die as a child from the abyss,al memories of that Place of Sorrow once called her home. But he did not think the Black Speech would have such severe magnitude of effect.

It meant the darkness of Mordor was growing… The Ring is growing stronger and more desperate to return to its master.

Gandalf opened his mouth to speak to Elysia, but another voice rose through the Council.

"It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor… Why not use this Ring?" Boromir began to rise and walk around the Council, proud and determined for Gondor to obtain and wield the weapon.

This time the crack and crinkle of splintered would caught Elrond's attention. The master of Rivendell glanced at the source, only to frown at the arms of Elysia's seat beginning to break further under her strength. Her eyes were livid in the stony face. She looked ready to incinerate Boromir as he spoke of using the Ring, boasting of Gondor's great sacrifice and might. Frodo also feared his friend's anger might lead their Council's destruction. The hobbit placed a hand on Elysia's white knuckles. Elrond and a few elves thought it tremendously brave of the little creature to attempt quelling the volatile dragon. The said dragon began to ease her rigidity, not wanting to scare her friend further. There were others of the council who visibly began to look a little relieved at this, for even they could notice the morbid aura emanating from the woman.

Aragorn's words seemed finally quell Elysia to a look of indifference. He argued against Boromir.

"You cannot wield it! None of us can… The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir sneered. "And what would a ranger know of this matter." Elysia's eyes narrowed dangerously, but it was the Prince of Mirkwood who stood up to defend the man.

"He is no mere ranger." He glared at Boromir's audacity. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn… You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir looked shock, as did many in the council. He stared at Aragorn with disbelief. "This… Is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas stated.

Aragorn appeared exasperated with the revelation. He gazed at his elven friend. "Havo dad, Legolas." Boromir stared long and hard and the ranger.

Boromir's sneer turned even colder. "Gondor has no king…" Glaring at Aragorn with seething eyes, he sat. "Gondor needs no king."

As he sat, the steward fumed, obviously displeased that the heir to Gondor was a raggedy ranger.

"Aragorn is right." Gandalf agreed. "We cannot use it."

There was a collection of sighs and murmurs through the group, disappointment in men, elves agreeing with the Istari, and dwarves grumbling amongst themselves.

"Then we have only one choice." Elysia sighed as she straightened her head. "The Ring must be destroyed."

At the sound of her voice, the males stiffened. It was the first time she spoke out since the Council had begun. Her voice was odd for a she-elf, lower with a smoky tinge. Boromir scoffed scornfully at the woman.

"And are you to decide that? In fact, what is a _woman_ doing in a council of men? Nonetheless voicing her opinion so-"

"Cease your prattling, bigoted steward." Elysia cut in. "I have no need to hear of your insufferably ignorant opinion."

Her acerbic remark promptly brought a deep shade of red through the steward's face, but before he could counter that remark, Gandalf the Gray smacked the butt of his staff to the ground, causing sparks to ignite at the impact.

"Boromir! Hold your tongue of any foul remark against _my_ former apprentice! I will not tolerate such insult to my person!"

At the Istari's challenging gaze, Boromir ceased to argue, but now his seething gaze focused upon Elysia. The dragon almost rolled her eyes at the juvenility of his behavior.

"Elysia is right, the Ring can only be destroyed." Elrond stated.

The council hushed in silence, until a dwarf stood up with an air of impatience. "What are we waiting for?" The red bearded dwarf growled, raising his acts and striding to the Ring. Elysia recognized the red beard and those eyes. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. This dwarf is the son of Gloin.

The dwarf raised his axe and with a roar, smashed down upon the Ring. Upon impact, it shattered; a predictable result. While the axe was now in pieces, Elysia was more concerned with the hobbit looking pained at her side. Frodo seemed to be nursing a headache of some sort, as though he felt the Ring's pain.

Elrond began to explain the gravity of the situation, for the Ring could only be destroyed by the fires from which it was forged, deep in Mordor in the fiery hells of Mount Doom. Silence swept through the Council upon hearing this. They could do nothing with the Ring but destroy it, for if it survives then darkness will fall, but to destroy it was a near impossible task.

Boromir voiced this, peeling away the dwindling hope of the Free Alliance as he spoke of the level of fortitude in which Mordor is protected. There were legions upon legions of foul creatures behind the great black gates that opened to a land of desolation…. And then there was the Eye…

Elysia glanced to Gandalf and they both held back a sigh. One particular elf was more vocal in his irritation with Boromir's poisoning words of pessimism.

"Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond just said?" Legolas glared. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" Gimli snapped, causing Legolas's blue gaze to morph into a contemptuous glare at the dwarf.

"And if we fail what then?" Boromir cried, rising from his seat. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!"

Gimli stood up, and despite his shorter height, he growled with anger as big as the taller males. "I will be _dead_ before I see the Ring in the hands of an _elf_!" He spat.

_Now _Elysia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as the sparks ignited into flame. The males all rose. Shouts, insults, feeble words of calm, hisses, and spats were tossed back and forth in a storm of noise. Even her old master began to rise and join the folly, discarding his staff to his chair in a fit of frustration or wisdom—for he could be sorely tempted to whack these men with it, and the mere sound of that possibility was undesirable.

"If this is what stands against Sauron…" Elysia muttered as she and Frodo sat while the others hissed and spat. "We are all… Doomed."

Frodo stared at the Ring as the alliance began to fight amongst themselves. Its black speech was returning, reverberating in his mind. He swore it sounded smug as he gazed the fighting council in its golden reflection. Upon its reflection, he focused on Elysia who sat, looking pained and worn with sorrow. It made his heart clench more, and he could bear it no further.

The hobbit stood up, causing Elysia to jerk in mild surprise as he sprung forward. Was Frodo going to join the folly? But what came out of his mouth nearly shocked the dragon off her chair.

"I will take it!"

The little one never looked as small as he did then in that crowd of men, elves, dwarves, and a wizard. He appeared so small, yet so great and strong. Elysia felt great pride swell with in her.

"I will take it!" He repeated.

But when he repeated those words, the pride vanished under horror as Elysia realized the magnitude of what Frodo said. Quick as a viper, she leaned forward and snatched Frodo's wrist, yanking him to her.

Frodo almost yelped as he was grabbed, yanked back, and promptly whipped around to stare at an oncoming storm. There was no fondness in her eyes, no trace of that gentle affection. She glared at him, unyielding, burning her gaze into his soul.

"Frodo Baggins… Care to repeat that to me?" Her voice was low and dangerous.

The hobbit nearly cowed under the intensity of her gaze. She did not look angry, but there was a foreboding aura pouring from her. However, he mustered the courage and stared at her with equally unyielding eyes.

"I will take it."

silvered eyes boring into his, the dragon seemed to be peering into the hobbit's soul, searching his eyes. What she found made her heart swell with aching pride. She had seen that fire before… That same flare of courage and adamancy within the innocence and doubt of Frodo Baggins mirrored his beloved Uncle in the hardest of times when Bilbo truly surprised her with great acts of courage. As much as she wanted to scream at him and smack him for his declaration, Elysia could not, for it meant she lost all faith and confidence in the hobbit and his strength, and a dragon shall not disgrace a friend in doing such thing. It was Frodo's choice, his own will, and she would not cage his will.

The grip on Frodo's arms eased. A look of finality swept over Elysia as she raised herself to stand tall before him.

"Very well…" She did not look at him, but over him, at the crowd of men, elves, dwarves, and a wizard still shouting at each other, quarreling amongst themselves.

"Hand me the staff, little one."

Frodo frowned but obeyed, not questioning or arguing Elysia when she bore that stormy look in her eyes. He handed her the staff. Elysia glanced down at him.

"Face forward, Frodo Baggins… Face your peers of the Council."

Frodo did. Elysia moved a little to the side, distancing herself from the hobbit. She grasped the wizard staff firmly in both hands. She raised the staff above her, just as Gandalf turned to see the dragon wield his rod.

Elysia slammed the end of the staff on the floor, and this time there was not mere sparks scattering from its rear. A thunderous blast exploded at the impact, pounding against the ears, shaking their bodies, and a gust of wind swept through them like a shockwave, and within a heartbeat—or thunderous clap—the entire council fell silent, staring at the staff wielding woman. Her glare was like a storm brewing with a looming threat, a storm that demanded awe and fear.

"Let Frodo Baggins speak." Her voice was deathly calm, daring anyone to speak out of turn or refute her demand. All eyes went to Frodo, who swallowed hard, glancing at Elysia nervously before staring at the crowd. Fist clenched he spoke.

"I will take it… I will take the Ring to Mordor."

They all stared at the adamant hobbit.

"Though… I do not know the way." Elysia almost chuckled at Frodo's small self-revelation. To worry about how to get there rather than the peril of getting there, hobbits were filled with surprises.

A twinkle returned into Gandalf's eyes. He stepped forward.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins." He placed a hand on the hobbit's shoulder and stood behind him. "For as long as it is yours to bear." The wizard glanced at Elysia and with a small grumpy pout, snatched his staff. Elysia had the decency to appear a little apologetic at her old master, smirking a bit sheepishly. Exchanging silent words through their eyes, Gandalf simply grunted and stood behind Frodo a little straighter.

Aragorn stood, gazing at the hobbit with great respect.

"If by my life or death, I can protect you I will…" Strider strode up to Frodo and knelt before him. "You have my sword."

Elysia almost smiled at the sudden oath, but what surprised her more was the third voice. Rich and musical with fierce determination, the Prince of Mirkwood also vowed.

"And you have my bow." He walked to stand behind the hobbit.

"And my axe!" Gimli, son of Gloin growled, much to Elysia's nostalgic fascination and the Woodland Prince's mild disdain.

Boromir slowly walked forward, gazing at the Halfling with deep thought.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one."

Elysia's eyes narrowed and her head twitched in irritation. How dare that bigoted steward call Frodo by her affectionate name for him? The audacity of this steward was like an itch to her scales.

"If this is indeed the will of the Council," Boromir continued, "then Gondor will see it done."

While she was nowhere near fond of Boromir, she admired his loyalty to his people. He was passably honorable in intentions… but still a bigoted steward…

"Hey!" They all turned to see a hefty hobbit run through and stand next to Frodo, looking determined to stay.

"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!" Samwise Gamgee declared fiercely.

Elrond sighed exasperated. "Not indeed. It is impossible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." The elf couldn't hold back his smile of amusement, neither could the dragon.

"Oi!" Merriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took sprouted from their hiding spots behind the pillar. "We're coming too!" Merry declared.

Elrond's eyes widened, startled at the hobbits' stealth.

"You'll have to send us home tied up in a stack to stop us!" Merry claimed as he stood next to Frodo, whose smile slowly grew and grew. Pippin nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this mission… quest… thing…" Pippin's words made Elysia sigh.

She stepped out from her position as she dryly remarked. "Well that rules you out, fool of a Took."

Elysia smiled at the near complete group. Her smile was for Frodo and no one else as she focused her gaze upon the beloved Halfling, eyes of great age and great pride at the small creature before her.

_**"Fricai (Friend)…. Are you certain you are willing to face this peril?"**_ Her foreign tongue brought much attention through the council, for they have never heard of such speech and the sound of it brought a strange shiver down their spine. Perhaps it was her voice, but the words held some indefinable power.

Frodo learned enough of the dragon speech to understand and respond in likeness.

"… _**Yes…" **_

The dragon then placed her hand on her heart and bowed.

"_**Upon my word as a dragon and friend, I shall aid you."**_ Only Frodo, her, and Gandalf out of the Council understood the magnitude of what Elysia just promised. For you cannot lie in the ancient tongue, and thus if an oath is made by it, it cannot be broken. Elysia is now bound by the ancient magic to help in this quest to destroy Sauron, a vow she was more than willing to make for her people, if not for Frodo.

While the others did not comprehend the foreign tongue, they understood the gesture alone. Boromir's lips curled down whether by disapproval or confusion, Elysia did not know nor did she care. Gandalf beamed with great pride at his former apprentice, Aragorn appeared glad to have the help of a dragon, Gimli scowled in wonder at the woman's potential, Legolas gazed at the woman with a strange air of curiosity, and the hobbits looked ecstatic.

"Ten companions…" _A wizard, an elfin prince, a dwarf, a ranger, a steward, four hobbits, and a __**dragon**_**…..**

The mere thought was very odd to the old elf lord. "Very well…." He stated. "You shall be the fellowship of the Ring."

Upon his announcement, Pippin grinned. "Right!... Where are we going?"

Elysia took one long look at the took and whapped the back of his head.

000

"You _will_ look after him, won't you?" Bilbo sniffed and blew into a handkerchief. They sat together on a bench, perched high above Imaldris, gazing over the wonders of the elven citadel.

"Bilbo…" She sounded older than she appeared, and Bilbo felt young once again. Her finger gently held his face and guided the old hobbit to gaze upon the fair sea storm color of her eyes.

"My dear brave hobbit…. I will do what I can for your nephew... But the wind and my scales are telling me that Frodo shall face many perils… Perils that he must face without my aid… The Ring is his burden to bear and his alone." Elysia refused to lie to Bilbo, even if it would give him comfort.

For that, the old hobbit was grateful but also pained.

"If only I had told Gandalf…" He lamented. "If only… I wasn't so blinded by my foolishness…"

"Bilbo Baggins." Elysia stated, disallowing him to finish in his pitiful wallowing. "We dragons have discovered long ago that everything…. _Everything_ happens for a reason… It was fate that you found it in the caves, and it was fate that Frodo was to become its bearer and through it, form a fellowship…. It was fate that brought me to the Shire that day…"

"So do not wallow in guilt… You are doing a great dishonor on your nephew by doing so." She stated firmly. "Instead, you must have hope. You have to believe in Frodo and his strength…. I believe in him, and that is why I swore an oath to him."

The old hobbit gazed at her for a long moment.

"It seems like only yesterday when you and I met." Bilbo smiled, sad but also warmed by Elysia. He gave her a wrinkly smile. "You came with Gandalf, barging in after you shoved twelve dwarves in…. And then came Thorin."

"Ah yes… Old Oakenshield." She chuckled with Bilbo. They sobered into a little somberness, for as wonderful as the friendships they made were, some did not fair so cleanly after the quest.

"He regretted it you know…" He murmured softly as they stared at the falling leaves.

"… I know…" She said softly.

"He also thought you were very beautiful… Even when you were scaled."

Elysia glanced at the old hobbit. "Did he now?" She asked in lax amusement, attempting to hide the twinge of pain.

Bilbo nodded. "It took me sometime to comprehend what he said, but when I did…" His smile faltered. "I did not want to give you any more sorrow." He said nervously.

"What did he say?" She was not angry, merely curious and sad.

Bilbo looked thoughtful and a little distant as he remembered his last conversation with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. "'He muttered something about sapphires… then said as clear as a bell,

'a beauty I have been blessed to see in company… I would not trade a second of time with her for all the gold in this world… If only I had more of it… If only...'"

Elysia did not move. She stared at her front with glazed eyes. Her mouth parted and she wondered softly.

"I wonder why he never…" She did not finish the sentence.

Bilbo glanced at her, wiping a stray tear. "Perhaps." He croaked. "He was too ashamed… Perhaps that blasted pride of his got in the way again." He let out a watery chuckle.

"Probably." Elysia laughed halfheartedly. "You and your stupid pride, Thorin Oakenshield."

She did not cry, but her eyes were bright and glassy. Dragons do not shed tears so easily. But she could not deny that her heart clenched, for as rough as their relationship had been, it was a diamond in the rough. Their friendship was rocky, like the Lonely Mountain, but nevertheless it had been a friendship that Elysia treasured as she had with all the others of his company.

And to think…. That once upon a time, the King under the Lonely Mountain, in a quest to slay a dragon, befriended one. That particular unexpected journey was one Elysia would always remember.

000

Elysia sat in her room. Elrond had prepared a great departing feast for the night; a feast in which Elysia politely excused herself from, for there was much scorn and curiosity in the Gondor men whom attended. She had many things on her mind anyways, as did all of the fellowship.

Her belongings were packed, and the clothes she had arrived in Rivendell with were cleaned and mended to be as good as new. Even the leather of her boots seemed to have been oiled to a much finer condition.

She meditated in her thoughts briefly before releasing a small forlorn sigh. Perhaps she should have snatched a few loaves of bread and a hind leg of that boar to eat in the privacy of her own room. Her mild lamentation was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

"It is Lady Arwen…" The voice was soft and it seemed a bit sad…

Elysia walked to the door, curious as to what brought the daughter of Elrond to her room. She opened the door to see the fair maiden peer a little down at her from her greater height. Opening the door wide as a silent gesture for the she-elf to enter, Elysia was surprised at the woven basket of food in her arm.

"I thought it might please you." Arwen smiled attentively. "You did not consume your usual amount." It did not take long for the elves to realize this dragon could _eat._

"No… I lost my appetite amongst the company of foolish men." She commented dryly. She swept the look of uncertainty from the she-elf with a wave and gesture to the table in the balcony. "But now I have regained it. Your timing and entrance is most welcome, Lady Arwen."

Arwen smiled more sincerely at this and gratefully took the silent invitation to dine with the dragon. Elysia sat with a casual air of leniency, her elbow propped on the table as she gazed at the scenery. She crossed her legs and chewed on a slab of roasted pork.

Swallowing, she cast a side glance at Arwen, who appeared to be a little lost in thought and was biting her lip. "I hope you do not mind my lack of etiquette at the moment, Lady Arwen."

"Not at all." The lady shook her head.

"Then speak your mind, Lady elf, for there is a reason you are here is there not?" She plucked a grape from the basket. "And I am quite certain it is not because you find great joy in watching a dragon eat so crassly."

Her comment brought a light laugh from the fair she-elf. Arwen propped her own elbows on the table. "Actually, I find your manner very refreshing, lady dragon."

"But that is not why you are here." Elysia stated in a gentle matter of fact. "...What is on your mind, Arwen."

The she-elf's smile faltered and she gazed at the stars, resting her hand gracefully on her cheek.

"… We are immortal. We cannot grow weak with time and perish of feeble age, but sometimes I cannot help but wonder if it is a curse rather than a blessing of Eru."

Elysia blinked and plucked another grape, staring at it in mild interest. "It is a double edged sword… For being immortal, we live our lives differently than mortals and think differently than them."

"Why can we not live like mortals?" Arwen sighed, looking more forlorn. "Why can we not live our lives like them and think like them?"

"…. This is about the raggedy ranger of yours, is it not?" Arwen bit her lip at Elysia's straightforwardness. She then gave a small flat smile.

"He has grown fond of that title you bestowed upon him… He will not admit it."

"I have grown fond of the raggedy ranger, myself… He is a good man, Arwen… And that is coming from a very old being that has seen many follies in men." Elysia mused lightly.

Arwen glanced at her. "How old are you?"

Elysia smirked wistfully. "I hatched in the Second Age, around the time Isildur was born." She was older than Arwen. "But we dragons mature very slowly… I am of age, but am still considered young amongst my kin, but that is not our focus now, is it milady? You are not troubled by my age, but by your raggedy ranger."

Arwen turned away and once again gazed at the stars. "He is distancing himself from me."

"The love between an immortal and a mortal is uncommon for a reason." Elysia stated. "I suppose he fears for your death once he passes on in time?"

"… He wishes me to sale west with my people." She admitted. "To leave him before his time and live eternally."

Elysia blinked. "Then he is a fool for you cannot." She exclaimed calmly.

The she-elf, mildly startled by her blunt remark, gazed at her fully. Elysia stopped chewing on a loaf of bread and swallowed, tilting her head and gazing at the she-elf, puzzled.

"Will you? I believed you would stay. You have given him your heart, have you not?" She asked curiously. "I am no elf, so correct me if my assumptions are misled, but can you leave your heart and actually live… without it?"

Arwen smiled. "No… I suppose not. Then do you believe I should wait and not sail with my people?"

There was a pause as the dragon gazed at her with great perception and wisdom. Then she promptly shrugged.

"How should I know? The choice is yours and yours alone. I would merely advise you to think it through thoroughly." She folded her arms and pierced a leveled gaze at the she-elf.

"You are no fool, Lady Arwen of Rivendell… You know the price in which you must pay with each choice… If you should stay and wait, you cannot be guaranteed he will return to you in one piece with a beating heart, but if he does you shall live every year, every month, every day, every second of _his_ life, not yours, happily in love. But eventually, that love will lead to your death for Aragorn is mortal. Your death will be grieved by those that love you, and that is no little number. If you sail, you leave the ranger incomplete, for I am sure he has left a piece of him with you… You shall never see him again and live the rest of your eternal days without him"

It was the most the dragon has spoken, and certainly not the most pleasant of things she had said to her. Arwen's gaze hardened.

"If you do not think of me as some ignorant fool, why have you thrown these thoughts back at me?" She demanded.

Elysia showed no remorse or pardon, her gaze was as steady as ever. "Because, Arwen, to think of it is very different when it is being voiced to you… is it not? I dare might say you see the consequences with more severity than before, and that you should… For your sacrifice is great."

The anger in the she-elf diminished with sorrow. "Must the sacrifice be so great for the price of love?"

"Greatest of loves shall entail the hardest of sacrifices." Elysia stated frankly. "…and if you truly believe this raggedy ranger of yours is worthy of such sacrificial fealty in love… Then…" Elysia waved her hand to finish her sentence.

Arwen smiled at her more lighthearted gesture. "Do you love someone, Elysia?"

"That is a vague question, lady elf." Elysia deadpanned. "Have I people I love? Yes, I can say in confidence I do, for I love the little one dearly, and I am very fond of my beloved old teacher, despite all his grumpiness and gray. But if you mean by a romantic love, in a sense akin to your bond with the ranger?... No… I have... never been in love... Successfully." She hesitated upon remembering something but quickly stifled the thought.

Arwen quirked a delicate brow at her hesitation and odd choice of words.

"Successfully?... Was your heart broken?" She asked. Elyisa's eye twitched oddly and Arwen continued. "Who was the fool?"

The dragon's face turned very stony as she waved her hand nonchalantly. "It is nothing. Of little consequence."

Unconvinced but deciding not to pry, Arwen simply stayed silent. Elysia looked lost in thought as she continued.

"It is seldom for my kind to find their 'heart's half'. We do mate, but often times there is no true love in the mating. Many she-dragons have mated multiple times with different males they deem worthy."

The mating ideals of her kind startled Arwen. "Have you… mated?"

"No." Elysia scowled. "I… am a little different… Perhaps I am too picky; my mother certainly was hard to please…" She muttered before continuing with a clear of her throat. "Or too romantic by dragon standards…" She chuckled. "For I always found the elven way of love to be most admirable and desirous. But I do not know what I look for in a mate… Even in all my years of living…" Elysia was momentarily lost in her thoughts. Arwen smiled at her innocence and Elysia glanced at her.

"I do not think I shall find anyone all that soon, nor am I really hoping to, for the male must possess many impossible qualities, many of which I am not fully aware or certain of myself, but I am certain with the qualities I do know that I cannot find them in the majority of my kind."

"He will find you." Arwen said firmly. "And when you truly _see_ each other for the first time…" She smiled to herself, lost in her own memories of her times with Aragorn.

_It seems as though it's a worthy sacrifice to stay…_

Elysia thought to herself as she assessed Arwen's bliss in her thoughts of Aragorn. But then she was no elf woman… She shrugged to herself and holding a chunk of meat between bread, she began to eat once again, gazing at the stars.

"What goes on between you and Prince Legolas?"

Arwen's sudden inquiry caught Elysia completely off guard, so off guard in fact that her food was caught in her throat. She made a small hacking noise muffled in her mouth and began to curl over in a fit of coughs. Arwen blinked and fought the laugh bubbling up her throat.

_A dragon choking on food…_

And then she noticed the tip of Elysia's ears begin turning red, and a fire seemed to rush up her neck and her cheeks.

_A _flustered_ dragon choking on food…_

Elysia's face scrunched as she forced the food down with a great swallow, licking her lips with a small grimace.

She then turned to glare suspiciously at the highly amused she-elf. "What makes you say this?" Her voice cracked and she cursed her foolishness.

Arwen bit her lip. "I have often caught him staring at you… His gaze lingers upon your figure whenever he catches you wandering about. I have known the Prince of Mirkwood long enough to know he has not paid much attention to the opposite gender."

_Ha! And when he does, they hardly ever return that attention!_ She thought to Tauriel and rolled her eyes.

"You are being misled by what you see, Arwen." Elysia waved her hand with a scowl. "If he looks at me, it is with contempt and if anything, curiosity."

"He does not seem very contemptuous… Contempt is by far what I would not define the emotion within him when he stares at you."

"He does not _stare_. I have not a clue of you assumptions! You are being delusional! Perhaps your elvish eyes are deceiving you." She rattled before huffing. Now Arwen could not contain her giggle.

"You are not a very good liar, Elysia."

"Bah!" Elysia snorted. "Apparently I am not…. If you must know, I have encountered Prince Greenleaf before."

"And…?" Arwen pressed, missing the small flicker of pain in Elysia's eyes. It passed too quickly to be noticed.

Elysia sighed in exasperation and glared at her. "There was no _wooing_ or romantic happenings on a shaded bridge." Arwen grew red at Elysia's implication, and the dragon continued. "In fact…" She now took on a more sheepish turn. "It was not very civil, even."

Arwen frowned quizzically now and Elysia grimaced.

"He shot me with one of his pointy stick throwers and I burned his hair and set fire to a portion of his father's woods… There's more, but you get the point." She gritted her teeth.

Silence hung between them. That was not what Arwen had expected…

...

"… Oh dear." Was the only comment she could give.

"Indeed…" Elysia mused grimly. "I am most likely on better terms with his sire than the Woodland prince."

"…. You burned a part of Mirkwood?"

"Oh for the-…" Elysia huffed. "It was not intentional!... Well… Perhaps- but that's not the point! It was the spider nests anyways! If anything, I did them a bloody favor by burning that wretched place." She grumbled.

Arwen bit her lip as they fell into silence. Elysia began to rip off her food with more vigor.

"…. He shot you?"

Elysia tilted her head and gave the she-elf a sardonic glare. "The story itself is long and it is late, lady Arwen. I shall tell it to you at a more appropriate time."

Arwen chuckled at this but quickly sobered upon remembering that the fellowship would depart on the morn of tomorrow. Elysia sensed her silence,

"I cannot promise you he will come back… But I can promise you I will look after your raggedy ranger." She stated.

Arwen blinked back tears and smiled at the dragon. "That is all I could ask, _mellon_."

* * *

Read and Review! Please!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Voices

Elysia's hands rested upon the sapphire pommel of Faersing, its thumb grazed the smooth surface rhythmically, feeling the occasional small bumps of the metal that kept the smooth jewel embedded. The sword was leaning towards her as she sat on her bedside, deep in thought, clothed in her dark travel garb. In a few hours, she must move down to the gates of Imaldris, join the fellowship and partake in another quest. But something did not sit well with her about this quest. It was the pinnacle of her duty to see this quest done, for the fate of her people resided with the fate of the Ring, as did all others who reside in Middle Earth. The quest for Erebor had been different, much different, that was a mere adventure compared to how imperative this quest was. The Eldest entrusted her with this purpose, and she entrusted a hobbit with the future of her kind.

It sounded so ludicrous.

The door opened with a click and light creak. The sound of wood thudding against the floor soon turned to a rustle of old cloth. The bedside space beside her began to compress and tilt her gravity as a cloak of grey touched her knee.

"… You are brooding." Gandalf mused.

"Your observation skills are astounding." She replied dryly.

Gandalf huffed and a moment of silence hung between them.

"…. The Ring… its power is affecting you, is it not?" His voice was gentle, but the foreboding air was undeniable.

"Its power effects all who stand near it, Mithrandir." said Elysia with an aged air.

"You know that is not what I mean." Gandalf stated.

The dragon stiffened, and her thumb stopped caressing the pommel. The wizard continued grimly.

"I fear for you, Elysia… For you, the Ring is a poison slowly dripping upon a wound, and I fear you partaking in this quest and being near its presence shall be your bane. It affects you differently… Not only does it tempt you as it does to everyone, but it makes you _remember_."

"You cannot sway me from my oath, Ebrithil." Elysia side glared at the old Istari. "And I daresay that it is good that it makes me _remember_." She grimaced. "While it is not pleasant, it will restrain me. I shan't end up like the bigoted steward who already gazes upon that band of metal as Thorin did with the Arkenstone."

Gandalf chuckled at this. "… Yes… If you ponder upon it that way, it does not affect you the way it does with your kind…"

"Perhaps this was fate." Elysia shrugged.

Gandalf smiled at this. His voice became somewhat mystified. "Yes, my wise dragon… Yes it was… Come, Elysia… Let us head to the gathering point."

000

They trekked through the lands of the Deep Valley in a single fine line. Elysia remained silent and almost near invisible in the back of the line, content to remain in that aloof manner that could rival a ranger. By nightfall, they eventually made a camp in a ruin more eroded than Weathertop. She went along Aragorn to gather wood when he gave her a pointed look.

"You should get to know your companions, Elysia." Aragorn stated as he carried a bundle of sticks.

"I do know the companions." Elysia deadpanned, and when Aragorn gave her a look she huffed.

"Four hobbits, a raggedy ranger, Gloin's son, Thranduil's elfling, my old teacher, and the bigoted steward." She listed the members with her usual monotonous mode of nonchalance.

The raggedy ranger did not hide the bemused smile at her nickname for Boromir. "Do not twist my words, dragon. You know what I meant. This fellowship must learn to trust each other, for we will be together for quite some time. I think it is best if you show a little more… sociability with them as you have done with me."

Elysia stopped her gathering and gave Aragorn an even look. "… Are you lecturing a dragon older than your lover, Aragorn?" She asked, mildly amused.

Aragorn fought the twinge of pain jabbing his heart at the mention of Arwen and cocked a brow. But then curiosity bested his emotions. Startled, he gazed upon the dragon.

"You are older?"

Elysia only gave a small grunt as she walked up to a small dead tree. Aragorn expected her to snap off the few remaining branches when she tapped the dry decaying wood. The dragon took a small step back and then sent a fierce kick. Aragorn's eyes widened as the dead tree was snapped from its base-thirteen inches in width—and toppled over. Then the dragon simply gripped the crack running through its middle and split the wood into smaller chunks, akin to someone ripping a loaf of bread. When she gathered an armload of the flammable material, she turned to Aragorn.

"This should be enough, yes?" She asked nonchalantly. The ranger still stared at the broken tree.

000

They returned and Elysia tossed the armload into the fire pit before setting herself down on a rock with a smaller chunk of wood. She pulled out a small throwing blade residing within the back leather flap of her belt and began to carve the wood in silence. Boromir and Gimli glanced oddly at Aragorn who had significantly smaller pieces of wood. The dwarf finally spoke, leaning against his axe and staring at the only female member who was the most distant from the group. It wasn't as though they ostracized her. Granted, having a woman unsettled them, but the ostracizing was all done by the woman. She seemed content to stick to the shadows.

"I say, Gandalf… what made you take on this woman as your apprentice?" He asked, hardly bothering to keep his voice discreet.

Boromir nodded, resting his elbows on his knees as he turned to the wizard who was contently smoking.

"Why choose a she-elf, nonetheless? What powers does she possess?" There was an air of mild scorn in his voice. Elysia stifled a snort and continued to carve.

"That is because she is no she-elf, Boromir." Gandalf stated, puffing his pipe. Aragorn glanced at the wizard. Were they not taking precautions upon the nature of Elysia?

"Then what is she? She is no Halfling nor is she any race of men. She has the ears." Boromir frowned, now confused. "Is she a sorceress of some sort?"

Gandalf shook his head. "Elysia, my dear! Perhaps it is time to enlighten these companions." He called out to the woman. "We must start acting as a fellowship after all."

Elysia did not look up from her carving. "If you see it fit, Ebrithil. I trust your judgment." She sounded mildly disinterested.

"Then would you be a dear and light the fire so Samwise can make us a delightful meal while we share amongst ourselves?" He asked, blowing a lazy ring of smoke.

Elysia stood up and walked up to the fire, with the knife and wood still in hand. Boromir and Gimli stared with cocked brows. How was she going to start a fire? She had no flint nor do they see any matches.

The woman licked her lips and tilted her head towards the pit. She then promptly _spat_ at the wood. The reactions were nonetheless flabbergasted, not at the unladylike action—well perhaps Boromir did—but at the quality of the spit… If they can call it that.

She spat out a tiny comet of bright blue light, and when it struck the wood it immediately igniting and within seconds there was a roaring flame. Frodo chuckled at her "fire spit" and the other hobbits simply stared open mouthed.

"By my beard…." Gimli stared at the fire. Legolas simply tilted his head with a quirk of his mouth. Boromir, however, looked disturbed.

"Did she just _spit_ out fire?"

"Thank you, Miss Elly." Sam quickly pulled out a pan and some spices.

"She just spat… out _fire_." Boromir whispered.

"What's the matter, bigoted steward?" Elysia tilted her head as she continued to carve. "Disturbed by my impropriety?"

Boromir glared at her title. "I am a steward of Gondor and I will-"

"You cannot _demand_ respect from a _dragon_, Boromir." Gandalf interrupted calmly.

Upon hearing those words there was a heavy pause. Then Gimli raised his axe in defense.

"A dragon?!" He glared at the calm lady with great unease and suspicion. Boromir scoffed.

"You jest, gray wizard. Do you really expect me to be fooled that the uncouth woman is a-"

He was silenced by a great gale of wind and a rush of flaming blue light. The dwarf let out a bellowing cry as he fell back and rolled over as a powerful solid force shoved Boromir to the ground and pinned him by his torso to the earth. The dwarf reached for his axe but was stopped by the Mirkwood Prince who stepped on the weapon and shook his head warningly. Gandalf continued smoking his pipe, the hobbits looked startled, and Aragorn simply stared.

Boromir stared at those slit pupils in the silver blue iris, frozen in fear as the angular head of the blue drake cocked. A scaly hand was pressed against Boromir's chest, its ivory claws pricking him. If she were to press her fingers down she would pierce his skin.

"And do you believe now? Steward of Gondor." Her voice was the same, but it held a great rumble of power and authority. Eyes screamed of an ancient might, ancient and terrifying. Her tail twitched as if she were a cat with a mouse pinned under its paw. She bared her teeth, revealing sharp fangs as she hissed.

"I-I…"

"Am a bigot?" She finished, finally relenting her hold on Boromir. The man began to sit up shakily as the sapphire drake backed away. In a swirling cloud of scales, she began to shrink shift, and there stood Elysia, unamused with irritation evident in her eyes.

"You are rather small, for a drake." Gimli commented as Boromir rose to a stand.

Elysia rolled her eyes. "Yes well, if I were to change to my full form, I would have flattened the bigoted steward… Now where would that lead us in this fellowship, if what is left of him is crushed like a bug with its entrails smudged on the ground?"

Boromir and the hobbits cringed at her imagery. The dragon plucked her wood and knife back from the earth and began to carve again, sitting a little closer now. She felt their eyes bore holes into her quiet form. Fighting the urge to sigh, she began to explain.

"And to correct your misconception, I am no spawn of Morgoth, Melkor, or Sauron…" Her voice was calmer now. "We dragons are direct descendants of Maia who took the serpentine form. The oldest dragon that lived at our beginning died in Du Fyrn Abr Domia… The War of Dominance, translated in the common tongue. The dragons recorded in the history of Middle Earth; Glaurung, Ancalagon, Smaug… and the others… You know them as wretched wyrms because they were enslaved… Morgoth was the first who succeeded in enslaving a dragon… And after he did, he did not stop."

She began to carve more intricately into the wood, lost in her thoughts. The dark sky and the light of the fire seemed to cast an aura of old sorrow around the dragon.

"… We differ in kind… Some of us love treasure… Some of us have no desire for it… Some of us breathe fire, and some do not… We are a class of many, some reside in clans while others remain alone; proud, fierce, and old… but there are few of us who remain, ever since the Shadow came and the war… Those of us untainted and still free prefer to keep to themselves, now more than ever. For as long as the Ring survives and Sauron's evil grows, my race will be vulnerable, and Sauron's reign will eventually lead us to extinction." Her voice gradually became hollow at the melancholy of her kinsmen's history.

"Why not fight?" Boromir asked. "His terror will destroy all of us! Men, elves, dwarves, hobbits… Why not stand and fight if you are so mighty?"

"Because… While magic runs thick through our veins, our power is the very reason why we are vulnerable to the shadow. We cannot afford to have another Ristvak'baen." While most of the fellowship did not understand the term, the very uttering of it sent shivers down their spine. Elysia appeared haunted under the light of the flame.

"So you choose to hide and simply wait?" Boromir almost scoffed. Gandalf cast a warning glare on the steward. "Because you do not wish to fight a war?" He did not heed the warning. The dragon's eyes flashed and pinned him down.

"What am I then? A toadstool?" Elysia snapped. "And the War of Dominance was more than just a war… It was… a _massacre_." She hissed so fiercely that Boromir fell silent. There was a maddened fire in the dragon's eyes, but it lasted only for a heartbeat. A cool mask of indifference passed over the drake as she looked back down to her carving.

"We are the hidden piece in the Alliance, now. I am here because the Eldest entrusted me to aid in Sauron's downfall…. And to look after the little one as I have done with his uncle on the quest for Erebor."

She then gazed at Gimli. The fellowship had begun to gather around the flame to listen to her mystified voice.

"Your father was one of few who knew what I was." She smiled wistfully. "And judging from your surprise, he kept his vow of secrecy… A very honorable dwarf, he is."

"And my father." Legolas's voice suddenly cut in. "My adar knew, did he not?"

The dragon did not meet his gaze, but she did respond.

"Yes, he and I met before your time." Elysia confirmed. This was the first time they had spoken to each other since Mirkwood, and the two immortals felt considerably awkward. The fellowship noticed. The dragon's shoulders grew rigid, and the prince held an air of mild discontent at her refusal to meet his gaze.

The dragon blew on her finished piece, clearing the wood shavings and rotated her work. It was a wooden carving of Orthanc, and quite detailed for a fast work of art. The hobbits admired the handiwork while Gandalf grimaced.

"Miserable tower." He muttered.

Elysia smirked and tossed the carving into the fire, satisfied to watch the work burn. A pair of bright blue eyes did not stop lingering at her that night.

They travelled again and stopped at a hill of boulders and brush. Elysia was content to be a lookout with the elf prince, but mainly because it gave her an excuse to stray away from him in the opposite direction. Their few words of exchange had been awkward, mainly because Elysia found it hard to look at those blue eyes, for they reminded her of many things that often made her want to smash her head against a rock. She did not know if the prince wished to speak with her, and quite frankly did not want to think of it. She was content with observing from afar, listening to his cheery occasional remarks and his tireless mode of travel.

Pippin and Merry were practicing their swordsmanship with Boromir, who had not stopped glancing at Elysia whenever he thought she was not noticing. Gimli was more civil with her now, sociable even. Her genuine praise of his sire helped to appease any general dislike from the dwarf.

He had walked with her, looking at ease at being so near a dragon. "Quite frankly, I am relieved that you are a dragon." His voice was gruff but held that mild jolly edge.

"Really? Why is that, red beard?" She asked.

"One pointy eared elf is bloody unbearable enough. Rather you are a dragon than an _elf_." He said the word as though it were something bitter.

Legolas cast the dwarf a snide glance while Elysia gave a soft snort.

"I never understood why you creatures loath each other so. Thorin's grudge, I can understand, but it often reminded me of a hatchling with a temper tantrum." She mused, recalling the many times Thorin thinned her patience with his great prejudice against elves.

"Which do you favor the company of, dragon? A dwarf or an elf?" Gimli inquired.

"Well…" Elysia pondered at this. Legolas was listening intently with his sharp ears while Gimli gazed up in curiosity.

"Both species have their benefits and doubts. You dwarves are quite stout for your small height, and your craftsman are impressive… I considered Fili and Kili to be two of my fondest companions… And Balin and Gloin were two admirable and honorable dwarves." Gimli nearly swelled with pride at the mention of his sire. "But Thorin could be bloody unbearable, and I am not very fond of caves." She finished with a little grimace.

Legolas smiled far in front, while Gimli deflated a little.

"But my patience tends to grow thin with elven folk at times…" She admitted. "And I have not had the opportunity to cozy up to their company very often." Gimli chuckled and then Elysia shrugged.

"But their aroma is very nice." She commented. "So honestly, I cannot answer your question with certainty…. But I can say I favor the company of hobbits."

Frodo smiled while Pippin turned to them. "You really can't _not_ favor our company! We're irresistible!"

"I can do without your idiocy quite often, Pippin." Elysia deadpanned. "As I recall, I often had to save you from Maggot's dogs."

Frodo glanced at Elysia. "Didn't you hang them on a tree and left them to be barked at?"

Elysia chuckled. "Ah… Now that was simply _irresistible_." She held a distant expression and a rather devious smirk, recalling her many cruel forms of discipline for the Took and Brandybuck duo. Merry shuffled his feet nervously while Pippin shuddered.

000

Pippin's blade clanked noisily as he practiced his stance and blocked Boromir's halfhearted blows. The dragon's lips twitched at the little hobbit's excitement. She wondered how he would fair in a real battle. Elysia heard Gimli grumble next to Gandalf.

"… Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria." He suggested. "My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome."

Elysia froze and turned to her old master. Gandalf also appeared very grim at this idea, with good reason.

"No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice." His response was grave, hinting at the terror of the mere idea.

While Eysia would like to have seen Balin, she knew that there was darkness that dwelled in Moria. The dwarves had dug so deep that they awakened a great evil.

Elysia heard Pippin yelp in pain and Boromir's rushed apology. Soon the hobbits were scuffling with the men. She was about to turn to spectate the amusing sight, but a dark cloud caught her peripheral. Legolas was already staring at the suspicious dark mass flying against the wind. The dragon leapt across the camp and stood by the elf's side, ignoring her general discomfort. She placed her hands against her temple and grimaced as her horns began to rise. With her hearing greatly enhanced by the horns, she ignored Legolas's curious glance and listened intently.

The other members of the fellowship were beginning to notice the odd black mass as well. With the wind against the dark miasma moving their way, Elysia's ears and Legolas's eyes could figure out enough.

"Wings." She stated as she heard the flaps and the croaky caws. "…. Black birds." She hissed, withdrawing her horns.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas cried, and Aragorn quickly ordered the fellowship to hide. They moved quickly to extinguish the fire and hide their belongings. Elysia slid under a brush with the elf and soon they were out of obvious sight.

The swarm of foul birds came, encircling their hill in a cacophony of ugly croaking caws. Elysia grimaced as she made out the swarm of words, for creatures of the sky can understand each other. Some dragons used hawks to send word or spread news to others of their kind. Owls, sparrows, eagles, and hawks, but Crebain were foul, noisy, and untrustworthy.

"**Did you see?"**

"**Where."**

"**They were here…"**

"**White wizard said to seek. We seeking, but for what."**

"**Suspicious. Suspicious. We saw something."**

"**Saw them, I did… Saw them, I did."**

"**Keep searching, keep looking…"**

"**I smell fire… I smell food…"**

"**Look, find… Seek, and smell…"**

"**Be the eyes of our master. Scan this land."**

Elysia's head was beginning to ache with all the ear-abusing noise. Crebain's voices were truly atrocious, grating her ears, akin to rusty swords rubbing each other back and forth She began to cover her ears and grimace, causing Legolas to look at her in concern.

"Damned noisy birds." She hissed. "All that racket of wretched jabbering."

The Crebain circled and eventually left. The fellowship emerged from their hiding spots and Gandalf grimaced.

"Spies of Saruman."

"They saw us." Elysia stated. "The wretched white Istari is keeping watch of the south passage."

"You understand Crebain?" Legolas asked curiously.

"Unfortunately." She scowled and shook her head. "My kinsmen soar the skies, and we can understand all flying creatures… They make such an insufferable racket... Gives me a headache…. The fact that they are the wizard spies makes their voices even more atrocious… His foul magic is in it." She sighed and glanced uneasily at the elf, finally initiating eye contact. Her head was aching.

"Pardon my sudden request, but just… Just hum or sing." Elf voices had that a lighter quality, a purer quality that would ease her mind. Her sudden request made her insides writhe with embarrassment. She really didn't think before she spoke at times.

Legolas tilted his head in mild surprise, but obliged and began to hum in his musical voice. It took a few heartbeats, but Elysia soon began to ease and she sighed in relief.

"Thank you." She rubbed her temples and Legolas seemed to almost smile as she muttered to herself darkly.

"Taste even fouler… They're only good for target practice, atrocious little featherbrained cretins…"

Gandalf cursed under his breath. "We must take the pass of Caradhras!"

Elysia stopped her muttering and whipped her head to the wizard. Gandalf met her eyes and they exchanged something in the silence of their gaze. Elysia's eyes looked strained; almost dazed. Legolas glanced back and forth at the wizard and dragon. Was it just his imagination, or did the dragon appear rather pained?

Then Elysia merely gave a small nod. "If that is what you think is right… We should prepare for the cold." She muffled the pang of mild nostalgia jabbing at her heart, masking any decipherable emotion. Whatever old sentiments she possessed should not impede their quest. It would be selfish.

000

Elysia is a dragon, she did not feel cold and heat as mortals did. She could soar through a blizzard and merely feel refreshed or walk through the desert and happily absorb the baking hot heat of the sun. While she did not have that feather light touch in the snow as the Prince of Mirkwood did, she faired far better than the others.

She was near the front, aiding Gandalf by making a more comfortable path with her kicks and resilient heat. Snow melted fast to her touch, and the chill nearly brought a visible steam to curl from her body by the sheer contrast of temperature.

The sound of Frodo grunting as he fell made her stop and turn, worried for her little one.

The ringbearer fell and rolled through the snow. Aragorn quickly helped Frodo up, only for Frodo to panic. The Ring fell from its place on his neck. Elysia immediately zeroed in on the gleaming gold band, but it was the steward who picked it up. Dangling it by the chain, Boromir stared at the little thing in wonder. While Elysia could not see his face, she sensed the temptation rolling of the steward in waves. She narrowed her eyes, ready to intervene when Boromir did not heed Aragorn's first call.

"Boromir!" Aragorn snapped. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir finally returned to his senses, still a little dazed. Elysia released a breath she hadn't realized she held when the steward returned the Ring to its bearer. A growl escaped her throat when he ruffled the hobbit's head.

"Easy, my dear dragon." Gandalf patted her shoulder, and they returned to the trek. Elysia merely scoffed and glared at their front.

The trek was becoming perilous. Elysia finally relented in making a path, a task Gandalf now did, and served her uses elsewhere. She held Pippin and Merry close to her, not minding them burying their faces in the crooks of her neck. Boromir held Sam behind her while Aragorn held Frodo. They marveled at her intense heat.

"I-I'm hungry." Pippin mumbled into her neck. Elysia did not respond with a jab, but held the feeble hobbit closer.

"Hush, little bird. Do not let the wind chap your lips." Pippin obeyed and closed his eyes, snuggling further towards her. A strange echo passed in the icy winds. The dragon jerked her head up at the sound, scowling in suspicion.

"There is a fell voice in the air!" Legolas warned.

Elysia felt anxiety send shivers down her spine. The voice boomed through the mountain with foul magic.

The wizard recognized this foul voice. He gritted his teeth. "It's SARUMAN!" Gandalf cried, but his warning was too late.

A rumble trembled the mountain and perilous chunks of rock began to fall from above. Elysia quickly shoved herself and her two hobbits against the cliff, dodging the hazardous rubble.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" She snarled.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn warned. "We must turn back!" Frodo looked miserable and frightened in his grasp.

"No!" Gandalf glared at the skies and began to rise. He turned to Elysia. "Elysia!"

She knew what to do. Gently, she released her hold on Merry and Pippin and they huddled amongst themselves while she rushed to Gandalf. The dragon reached and grabbed the end of Gandalf's staff.

"Control, Elysia!" Gandalf warned. Elysia understood and closed her eyes. The gnarled tip of Gandalf's staff began to conjure a blue swirl of magic, and Gandalf began to call out to the dark clouds, aided by the storm drake, in an attempt to calm their rage.

"Gandalf!" Elysia's voice was strained. Saruman's dark magic was growing strong with the currents of the storm, she could feel him pouring all his malice and energy into bringing the mountain down. The white wizard was hellbent.

"Gandalf! It's too late! His magic-" Saruman's chant was already finished before Gandalf could conjure a counter. Lightning crackled above, interrupting their spell. A bright bolt tackled the peak of the cliff, and the fellowship stared up in horror.

In a combination of reflexes, instinct, and quick mind and muscle, Elysia acted in a blink. She grabbed Gandalf by his cloak and yanked him down to her arms. Shoving him against the men, dwarf, and hobbits, she snatched up Merry and Pippin against her and shut her eyes. They heard the rip of fabric amongst the howls and humbles of the mountain. Legolas felt something thin but strong envelope his body and promptly yank him to the huddle.

The males were all embraced and shaded by something warm and blue, but before they could see what it was, they were forced into darkness. Ice, snow, and rock crashed down upon them, pounding against the odd warm blue barrier. Snow still found them through a few leaks in the shade, but for the most part they were protected.

Pippin jerked up his head at the sound of a small soft grunt of strain. Elysia's body was as rigid as rock as she hunched over them. She looked pained in the darkness. Silence fell.

"Elly!" Frodo muffled out a cry.

The fellowship then realized what the warmth and the blue was above them. Aragorn felt the thin but stout blue membrane and the skeletal frame. Pippin grew frantic and tried to wrap his arms around Elysia, but his hand was stopped by something protruding from her back.

"Elly…" Merry gasped.

Legolas was stuck to Elysia's side, for her warm appendage was wrapped around him like an arm holding him against her. He gently separated himself from the appendage and began to clear the snow around her.

Elysia gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply as she pushed herself to stand straighter. Her knees wobbled from the pressure she was taking for the entire group. But the stubborn dragon gave a snarl and straightened herself. The snow covered cliff started to tremble and shift. Snow, rock, and ice began to fall as the layer began to rise and out came a pair of massive leathery blue wings. The fellowship shook and brushed off the remaining snow that leaked through her coverage. Gandalf stared worriedly at his old apprentice. She was scowling and nursing a shoulder, her eyes painfully shut.

"Elysia…"

"I'm fine." She spat, but her wings shuddered, and they were unconvinced. From her shoulder blades down to her lower back, the wings were attached by bone, scales, and leathery skin. Two parallel sections of her clothes were torn as she forced her wings to tear through, not having time or patience to use a spell.

Legolas gently brushed off snow and rock from her right wing while Aragorn and Boromir tended to the right.

"Is anything broken?" He asked anxiously, as he helped Elysia furl the right wing to her body.

Elysia shook her head. "It is fine… It will just be sore for a few hours." Her wings felt bruised and she was certain the joints will ache. With a small groan, she began to force the wings into her back. They began to shrink, slowly with a little shudders, turning pale as they melded back under the clothes. She grimaced as she straightened her back cracking in several places as if she had slept in a horrible position.

"My shoulder feels funny." She mumbled.

Boromir began yelling to Gandalf, voice struggling against the storm, attempting to convince him to go through the gap of Rohan, against Aragorn's judgment. Gimli urged for the Mines of Moria. The elf, however, focused his attention on the dragon.

"I believe it is out of its socket. Allow me." Legolas placed a tender hand on her sensitive shoulder. Elysia shut her eyes and inhaled sharply. With a strong and quick shove of elven strength, Legolas popped the shoulder back into place. Elysia scowled deeper but refrained from making noise, for the hobbits looked very worried and fearful.

"Let the Ring bearer decide." Gandalf silenced them. The fellowship focused their attention on Frodo, who looked nervous.

"…. We will go through the mines." His eyes belied his certainty.

Elysia bit her lip and felt dread rise within her, but if this was Frodo's choice, then it must be done. She raised her head towards the sky and scrutinized the storm. She felt the wind currents and sensed a dreadful climate change.

"Gandalf! We must find shelter! A blizzard is coming and it will soon be too hard to see!" There was a white out brewing.

"Can you not guide us?" Gandalf asked.

Elysia shook her head. "The hobbits will freeze to death at this rate." The dragon hesitated before speaking rather carefully. "We can make for _the cave_."

Gandalf stared at the dragon, reluctance evident. "… Are you certain…" He was reluctant for _her, _not for anyone else. The dragon gazed at him levelly.

"Ebrithil." Elysia stated gently. "We have to find shelter. It will be alright."

It was ironic. Now she was the one attempting to assure him. Times surely did pass fast for them.

They waded through the snow, confused as the dragon and the wizard led them through a new path. They soon entered a small ravine, and not long in their trek did they spot a small gap in the ice and rock. It hardly seemed to be a proper place, seeing that they could not even fit in it. But Gandalf raised his staff and smacked at the gap. The ice fell and crumbled, revealing a bigger gap of glazed old ice. The moment they stepped in, they stared at the peculiar tunnel. Boromir touched the ice walls and frowned and its smooth surface.

"This ice was melted…" He commented at the frozen drips patterning the caverns wall.

"Yes… We are in an ancient glacier." Elysia stated softly as they walked deeper into the ice cave. Light refracted from the entrance, giving a frosty dim blue glow to their path.

A shadow seemed to loom over the dragon as she walked far ahead. It grew darker until they finally stopped at the end, barely able to make out the large ice den. Gandalf placed a crystal on his staff and blew it as if he were fanning embers. It began to glow, and Pippin and Merry released a yelp of surprise that echoed through the cave.

It dawned on them with the light, as to why the cave's room appeared odd in the dimness. For in the room, there rested a massive frozen dragon.

Half of its body was melded in the ice of the wall, while the other half lay stiffly frozen, curled around the edge of the round room. Its dark emerald scales glittered with crystalline frost, and with light from Gandalf's crystal the room was alive with a soft green glow. The dragon was dead, for there was a patch of dark staining its side, and its mouth was partially open and covered with frosty teeth, indicating its eternal sleep. It resembled Elysia's own form, but the head and the build was much stockier, and the horns on the dragon's head and the extra small horns on its jawline that she did not possess were broken, cracked, and rough. A wing was partially frozen on the roof, its corner adorned with a large icicle that gradually formed years after years of dripping.

If the dragon was not odd enough, what lied in the center topped it all. There was a pile of pebbles and rocks at the heart. It was matted down like a nest of some sort, with shards of blue crystal scattered in the center. The dragon, they now realized, had been hovering over it protectively.

"What is this place?" Boromir whispered.

Not the dragon or the wizard gave him an answer. Instead, the dragon slowly walked towards the center, stopping when her feet touched the rocky nest.

"Sorrow slept here…." Legolas's said softly as he neared the lifeless green drake.

Silence hung, but only for a moment.

"Yes… Yes she did… She slept here for over a thousand years in fact." Elysia's voice echoed with a tenor that made their hearts ache. Now Frodo was confused as the rest, for this was a part of Elysia that she had never enlightened him with. He never knew of this cave.

"Until the day the Gray Pilgrim came…." Her voice became soft.

They looked to the Istari, who wore a face of nostalgia, eyes distant as they focused on the young dragon. She knelt down and with gentle fingers, plucked a blue shard from the odd nest.

"This, steward of Gondor, will be our shelter." She finally answered Boromir's inquiry. The man almost sighed. That was not what he was asking, and she knew it. But her tone held finality.

000

The horse was content to stay in the hall of the ice tunnel, away from the dragon. The fellowship began to set up for camp in deathly silence. Packs rustled, pots, swords, and a shield clattered. The hobbits shivered and huddled with each other. There was no wood to make a fire, much to their dismay. They all kept a distance from the frozen preserved dragon, for it felt wrong and dishonorable, like sitting on a grave.

Elysia stared at the dragon head, still as a statue, deep in thought. They would have feared she was frozen, if she had been covered in ice. Her stillness was eerie.

But one had the courage to near her, for his keen senses felt great pain in the stoic dragon. He managed to see her eyes; anguish and longing filled them like a gray sky on a dull cloudy day.

"…. This drake was your friend." Legolas said, eyes gentle as they gazed down at the smaller figure. He was content to have her silent; merely attempting to ease her sorrow with his presence, for her sadness was great, even paining the elf's heart.

But the dragon spoke. "… Not just a friend…. He was my brother. Born from a different sire, but same dam, a generation older…" She explained in her sorrow.

"… His name was Vraiel, the Sunseeker, for he always sought to fly high and so near to the sun."

A wry smile curled her lips, never meeting her eyes.

"M-Merry, I-I'm cold." Pippin's whisper caught Elysia's attention. She turned and her forlorn stupor snapped at the sight of the Halflings shivering. Even Gandalf and the men appeared cold.

Elysia frowned and quickly set aside her weapons, the spell was much easier to conjure when her load lessened. Legolas stared as she became a whirlwind of blue ghostly light, and soon there was a scaly blue drake in the cave. The fellowship quickly moved aside as the dragon began to precariously move around them before settling her long lithe frame down in a comfortable position.

Gandalf and Frodo were the first to move from the hesitant crowd. The wizard gently nudged the hobbit towards the dragon's ribcage, for it was the warmest area. The rest of the Halflings began to move hastily, following Frodo as he settled down and huddled to Elysia's great warmth. Merry couldn't help but release a soft sigh. Elysia inhaled deeply and made a small warble in her chest. The hobbits felt a greater heat emanate from her scales.

Aragorn settled himself next to Gandalf against her midsection. Gimli sighed and began to take off his helmet before sitting near them. Legolas came as well, settled against near her hind leg. Boromir was still hesitant and far from the group gathering at the dragon. The drake cast a great eye at the steward and released a snort, almost as if she were exasperated. Boromir was promptly pushed towards the group by her tail fin as it thwacked his back.

When they all gathered, Elysia's great wing began to stretch over and the dragon became a makeshift tent. Warmth soon spread through the fellowship. They marveled while Gandalf set his illuminated staff gently atop of the rocky pile. Gandalf pulled out his pipe and contently began to smoke.

Frodo stared at the pebbled nest, picking up a cold pebble from the edge touching his foot.

"… What happened here, Elly?" He asked softly. "What happened to you?"

The dragon, who had her eyes closed, opened them with a _snick_ and rounded a great stormy iris upon the hobbit. It then moved to Gandalf, who set down his pipe with mournful eyes.

"Perhaps…" He began softly. "It is time for them to know… What truly happened in _Du Fyrn Abr Domia_…"

The dragon's eye lingered on the wizard. Then she sighed, and the eye closed. Her head shifted up and she spoke in her melodious low tenor.

"This is where I became the Istari's apprentice, little one…."

No one moved, and no one spoke. They waited for the dragon to continue.

Elysia merely stared at the center, lost in thought as she continued wistfully.

"… This is where Mithrandir found me."

* * *

Read and Review!

If you have a hard time picturing her dragon form. I imagined the wing and the body design to resemble a Night Fury from how to train your dragon. Though her neck is mildly longer, she has horns, and her scales are much more resilient.

Your reviews are awesome. Thank you so much!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Senses

_ I was born in the Second Age of Arda and hatched around the year of Isildur's birth. Dragon eggs will hatch upon random. Some awaken naught but a day after they are laid, and some take years. The longest waiting was century… I hatched after twenty five years, but I was born into a darkening time, for we were still being hunted by the Forsworn. Still… there was always light in my days, for I was born upon an eerie high in the peaks of a mountain hidden in the north, away from Middle Earth, in a clan of great honor and respect._

_We were the Dragons of the Storm, the drakes of the heavens, the masters of flight. Since birth, hatchlings of the Eyrie are exposed to the might and fury of the sky and its storms, and we learn to befriend it and wield it as our own fury._

_ My mother was a proud dragon. She was deemed the fairest of the clan and self-proclaimed as the fairest of all dragons. Sapphira Bjartskular, they called her… Brightscales; an honorable title for a fearsome drake. _

_ When I awoke upon the Eyrie, I was deemed the bastard daughter, for while dragons can mate with several different dragons and sire many half-related offspring, the sires were always known for it brought no shame upon our dames to have different mates in different times._

_ So I was odd… For my mother told not a single soul of who sired me. She raised me to be strong, resilient, and proud as a dragon should be. I grew and played with the others, but Vraiel was my most beloved friend, born by my mother and a different sire before my time, but that did not ever lessen the love I had for my brother. _

_ Estranged, I was, when I began to shift into our unscaled form earlier and more adeptly than the rest, but nothing deterred me or discouraged me. I was proud to be a part of my clan, and we thought ourselves invisible to the growing evil that shadowed the lands and began enslaving some of our kind…_

_Our Eyrie was untouchable… Or so we believed._

_ We call Sauron "Wyrdfell" in the ancient tongue, for it means Forsworn... And everything changed when Sundav Wyrdfell, the Forsworn Shadow, came… For, as the shadow came upon our race, so began The War of Dominance, and it began in the very place drakes thought to be invulnerable. _

_ He came in a storm of ash and flame; a suffocating squall of evil that even the Dragons of the Storm could not withstand and control. He came with an army of demons we once called friends and family, for he had enslaved an army of dragons. _

_ The Forsworn came to "convert" us to his glory, and we were hunted…. The greatest crime amongst our kin is to kill or thief a hatchling, and the day he came, Sauron committed a massacre of my clan. Eggs were shattered, dragons slain and chained. The War of Dominance began with the downfall of the Storm Drakes. It is a war that struck great nightmares into the heart of veterans, for they were forced to fight their own kin. Many were killed in great remorse, and many were driven to madness and death by their grief._

_ The Eyrie in the Heavens, the home I prided and loved, became Ristvak'baen… The Place of Sorrow._

_ I saw him that day. With my very own eyes, I saw the Forsworn; tall and terrible, dark and powerful, with malcontent so great and suffocating that even the most courageous could not deny their fear. The only light from his darkness was that Ring. It gleamed, mocking the murder and agony of my people._

_ In her last desperate act of great defiance and love, my mother casted us from cliff of the Eyrie, Vraiel and I. She commanded Vraiel to look after me, for I was still too young to combat the great hurricane shrouding our home. __The last thing I saw, before we fell, before Vraiel snatched me away in his great claws, was my mother, Sapphira tackling the Forsworn just as he impaled her with a black spear. _

_It rained blood that night._

_ They came after the rest of us, like hawks hunting the sparrow. Vraiel and I were captured, but we managed to escape, however, we were not unscathed. _

_I knew he was dying, and he knew it, but we did not say a word of it. He brought me here to these mountains, and made a cave. He knew I hated the confined space but the light leaking through the fine ice and the glow of his scales comforted me._

_ Vraiel told me to sleep, to just close my eyes and not to open them until he woke me... but alas, he never did. I slept, for I was exhausted, and Vraiel must have induced me to hibernate. With the cold and the magic of my sleep, time began to hasten around me. _

_Days passed… months… years… _

_ Then the Gray Pilgrim found me. He stood there with his bushy brows, long beard, and pointy hat, staring at me when I opened my eyes. At first I feared him, but then he simply smiled and gave me a pat… The first warm touch I felt since centuries passed. _

"_Hello my dear little dragon…" He said. "I am here to ask for your company." It was something so simple and random, but it made me happy. I felt so happy and thrilled._

_ I turned to Vraiel, to share the good news or to celebrate with him…. But he had already passed, leaving nothing but a frozen shell of scales behind. I grieved and grieved. Then the old gray stranger knelt down._

"_I guess it is just us… Unless you no longer wish for my company…?" He sounded of peace and kind heart. __He gave me a choice, the first being to do so after so long._

_And I did choose. I became Mithrandir's apprentice…_

000

Elysia opened her eyes, observing their somber faces, some even teary. The hobbits wiped their eyes, Frodo blinked back tears. Even the warriors appeared anguished. But Gandalf smiled, albeit his eyes were glassy, as he stared at the dragon. She took one long look at the fellowship and released a warbled groan.

"Oh fantastic, I have made you weepy." Elysia sighed dryly.

Boromir stared at his crossed feet, eyes downcast with sorrow. "It is a sad tale… A tale that would make anyone weep." He confessed sincerely.

The dragon tilted her head. "Sad?" Elysia blinked. "I think not entirely so…"

They gazed at the dragon as she blinked and stared at the light of the crystal in thought.

"There was a happy ending, was there not?" She asked with a gentle air. "And this story is about my life… And my life certainly did not end there." She nudged the hobbits gently.

"My life has yet to come to any end, and thus this story has not yet ended, and you Halflings of all folks should know that there was certainly happiness and great excitement in this story."

Gandalf smiled at her rare moment of optimism.

"Unless I am as lousy a storyteller as a liar…" She mused halfheartedly. "The story was not supposed to make you sad and weepy." A snort escaped her as she swept a lidded gaze upon them all.

Frodo laughed and the mood lightened in the dim cave.

Merry shook his head. "These are tears of _joy_! We're crying because the story was so beautiful!"

The dragon snorted at this and huffed. "You creatures are so sentimental… It is no wonder we dragons prefer not to mingle with the Free People."

The cave was darkening as night began to fall. Elysia rested her head back onto the floor and rumbled.

"Now sleep… I will wake you when the storm calms."

The tired fellowship relented, all except for the elf for he did not need sleep like the others, and the steward as well, for something seemed to trouble his mind. The steward looked up after a moment of brooding and gazed at the dragon head across the tent.

"… Faramir, my brother, is never going to believe this." He mused softly.

Elysia rolled her eyes. "Perhaps he will if I pin him as I did to you." the dragon halfheartedly said.

Boromir chuckled at the thought of his brother's face if Elysia pounced on him like a blue scaly cat. He then sobered and sighed. "Our kind… The Free People are so wrong about you and your kin. My brother used to run around the halls, pretending he was slaying dragons… Now I think of it and…" He felt ashamed, unable to finish. They had treated dragons as such terrifying monsters, and here he was with one who actually bore docility and wisdom.

Elysia flicked out a wide and flat forked tongue. "If it comforts your conscious…. Many dragons have eaten men." She said nonchalantly.

Boromir blanched at this and Elysia snorted softly. "But they tended not to after they discovered how tedious it was to digest all that clothing or pick at the chainmail and armor stuck in their teeth."

Boromir shuddered at the disturbing thought before chuckling softly at the mild mirth in Elysia's lidded gaze. He made himself comfortable; shutting his eyes and soon began to sleep.

000

Elysia gave a grunt as she stretched her back. As she anticipated, her back was sore from the incident on the cliff. She listened contently as Frodo attempted to explain the concept of the ancient language to Sam. It baffled those of the fellowship when they were informed that one could not lie in the draconian tongue.

"But I can just say no." Merry frowned.

Elysia sighed. "Very well, try to lie, Merry, _**do you know Frodo**_?" Hearing the language felt strange. It held an undeniable stir of power.

Merry licked his lips. _**"I…"**_ He faltered and bit his lips. _**"I…. do." **_When the words spilled from his mouth, Elysia smirked and Merry appeared frustrated but then it morphed into fascination. Pippin nudged him.

"So you can't? What's it like?" asked the curious young hobbit.

"It's like trying to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof." Merry opened his mouth wide and began to stretch his tongue, it was an odd look. "It's odd."

"A dragon cannot lie to another dragon." She stated. "Odd, is it not? For some of us are capable of enchanting our foes with a dragon-spell, bringing doubt into a weak victims hearts and filling their head with lies."

"Can you do it?" Aragorn asked. Elysia shook her head and glanced pointedly to Frodo. The hobbit gave a small smile.

"Elly is a lousy liar." He admitted.

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed up in front. "Frodo, come and help an old man."

Elysia blinked up at the wizard curiously. While the wizard was indeed quite ancient, he was hardly anything feeble. The two males must wish to talk in private.

They arrived before the walls of Moria, and Elysia raked the mountain from top to bottom with her eyes. The mountain felt gloomier than Orthanc, and the smell… She scowled in displeasure at the water. The water smelled odd.

...

Gandalf mused about the moonlit gates, stating the doors were so well hidden that even the master dwarves had trouble; Legolas was hardly surprised by this. Leave it to dwarves to have rocks in their heads. They can't even remember where their own doors are. To the dismay of the group, Gandalf was unsuccessful in opening the gate. The wizard huffed in irritation and began to mutter and smoke, pondering upon the problem. The prince of the Woodland Realm then noticed Elysia standing afar, eyes focused on the water with a mild scowl upon her lips.

He fought the urge to sigh, feeling a personal gloomy sense of dismay rise from him. The woman had been avoiding him ever since he arrived in Rivendell. He had thought her still angry with him, but she did not seem that way. She simply seemed to treat him as though he were a strange spider... Which probably wasn't all that better from being furious with him, but at least there was no malcontent.

Legolas would not admit it openly, but he also could not deny in his heart that he was desirous of a more amicable relationship with her. She was even on friendlier terms with _Boromir_ whom she began to call "stubborn steward" along the journey. Legolas still preferred "bigoted"... After she unveiled to them her origins, the light in which he saw her changed. He had always thought her mainly to be volatile, fierce, proud, impatient, and unapproachable. She indeed was still those things, but since Rivendell, he began to see her loosen her shields and unravel more qualities; for she was also protective, honest, straightforward, and her wit and even her sharp tongue had him laughing to himself quite often.

But, alas, she showed none of these to _him_, he observed this through her interactions with everyone but him. He saw how gentle she was with the Halflings and how she teased Aragorn enough to make the tense ranger laugh. Her rare shows of wisdom made him feel _young_.

The ironic inelegance between the two graceful beings did not go unnoticed by the fellowship. Elysia seemed to twitch or freeze whenever Legolas stood close or when she heard his voice, and her response to him tended to be curt and a little strained. Gandalf looked more amused than confused, as did Frodo, for they knew of the past between the two. The first encounter between the two had been rather uncouth, and even then, one could say with some certainty, their relationship went a little further downhill…

Determined to set things right, Legolas walked up to her with the stealth of his kind. He stood next to her and stared at the dark waters.

"Something is troubling you, milady?" asked the woodland elf. Her stiffening and the little twitch of her finger did not go unnoticed, for the elf was also very keen.

After a moment of hesitation, she did respond. "… Yes. It smells odd." She admitted curtly.

Legolas could hold in the sigh no longer. "Have I displeased you, Lady Elysia?"

Elysia whipped her head, her braid whipping around to the other side of her neck. "What?"

"It seems as though I have done something to deserve your… apathy." Legolas stated carefully, gazing at her earnestly.

The dragon blinked and blinked, her mouth moved and twisted as if she sought to find the right words. Biting her lip, she turned away from those sincere crystalline pools. She did not see the frown growing upon the fair elf's lips. She was always making his cheerful disposition falter. Always in the fellowship, he was the tireless elf with the quiet air of content, but at the right time, like a quick shot of his bow, he could turn serious when necessary, for the elves of Mirkwood were fierce. But this was no battle… This was a socially impaired situation.

"We have not spoken or met since that time in Mirkwood." He noticed her stiffen further and released another sigh. "If what happened then still upsets you, please I beg your pardon again… I did not think dragons would bear a grudge for so long."

"I bear nothing of the sort." She was unable to hold back her snide glance. "I am no Thorin Oakenshield."

Legolas fought back a smile. Thorin Oakenshield indeed knew how to bear a passionate grudge. "Then?" He pressed. "I am at a loss for what to do, Lady Elysia. You do not talk to me, nor do you acknowledge my presence unless you must, you seem to avoid even _looking _upon me."

Elysia turned her head and faced him fully. She was forced to look up, for the elf was over a good head taller than her. Legolas stared at those grayed blue orbs in that unreadable face. After her obvious long stare, she turned back to the water.

Realizing what she had done, Legolas raised a brow at her.

"That was juvenile, Lady Elysia." chastised the elf.

"I am older than you, Prince of Mirkwood."

"Yet you act younger." He rebutted.

"Bah!" She gazed up at the sky and huffed and bit her lip, now glaring back at the water. "Now you resent me for not paying enough attention to your pretty face, prince leaf?" She snidely remarked. "There is no pleasing the elves of the Woodland Realm."

Now the elf looked confused. He tilted his head. "I have never resented you." Now he began to understand, for Elysia looked a little relieved yet startled. Had she thought he disliked her?

"… And my ada is actually rather fond of you. He speaks of you with respect." He added.

"Does he?" Elysia frowned, even more genuinely surprised. "Well, that is a relief." she mused to herself.

Legolas nodded.

"You regard my father better than you regard me, Lady dragon." He sounded a little off. Now Elysia could no longer avoid looking at those eyes. She whipped her head and stared at him with a quirked eyebrow. The cheery passive elf appeared a little melancholic.

"Are you… Are you sulking?" Elysia inquired in disbelief. Legolas gazed evenly at her.

"... Yes, I cannot deny I am a little upset. You seem to resent me."

"I do not resent you." she quickly contradicted.

"Then why are you treating me as though I am some spider? Why would I ever resent you?" He asked. The composed elf sounded so exasperated. Elysia bit her lip again and curled a loose hair behind her ear, averting her gaze. He would have found the shy motion charming if he weren't so thoroughly frustrated by her riddling stubbornness.

Legolas searched the dragon briefly before responding.

"Is it because you burned my hair?" He inquired lightly.

Elysia glared back. "I saved you from the fire!" Her retort was quick and a little flustered. Ah... So was it because of _that_ incident?

"May I remind you, the fire was your doing?" He countered.

"There were _spiders_." She argued.

"You burned a part of my adar's realm."

"You shot me." She deadpanned.

"I saved you from drowning."

"And exactly who was at fault for me drowning?" She felt heat rise up her face. Legolas saw her ears turning red and her face turning a little pink.

"You are blushing." Legolas then did that tilt that Elysia found aggravating. "Are you still embarrassed of-"

"I am _not_, you insufferable, pointy-stick throwing-"

"AHEM!"

Elysia and Legolas turned to Aragorn. He promptly cleared his throat, his arms crossed and eyes staring at them with a little cock of the brow. He was not the only one who was paying attention to the two. Everyone in the fellowship stared at the elf and the dragon with looks varying in amusement, confusion, and astonishment. Gandalf simply smoked his pipe while Frodo smirked, his eyes twinkling.

The dragon chewed her lip and struggled to regain her composure. She inhaled deeply and sighed, wiping her face of any emotion, and walked past and away from Legolas, towards Gandalf and Frodo.

"The water smells odd." She stated, and without bothering to look at Merriadoc, she continued, "Do not even think about throwing pebbles in the water, Merry."

Merry dropped the stone he was holding.

Aragorn stared meaningfully at the calm and rather content looking elf. He looked smug about something, though it was always hard to tell with the fair-folk.

The ranger mouthed. "You _shot_ her?"

But the dwarf was less subtle. He burst into a hearty laughter and slapped his knee.

"You burned the elf's _hair!_" Gimli roared. Legolas's happier look disappeared, and he glared at the dwarf in mild disdain.

Elysia did not appear pleased as well. "It grew back! It looks as fine as it did then." She cleared her throat and needlessly fidgeted with her braid and stray curls.

"I'm not mad, lass!" Gimli continued laughing. "It is no wonder my father was fond of ye! What I would give to see that. I bet it was an improvement!"

Elysia sighed and rolled her eyes before turning to Gandalf. "Have you thought of anything?" She ignored the laughing dwarf, the amused ranger, and the infuriating elf prince.

"Do you think I would be sitting here if I did?" Gandalf grumbled. Elysia grimaced at her old master. Frodo, however, began to stare at the elvish inscriptions on the wall. Something dawned in him as he stood.

"It's a riddle…" He whispered. "'Speak friend… and enter'… What's the elvish word for friend?"

Elysia's head whipped at the odd sound in the water, barely managing to catch the ripple. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she sniffed. The odd scent was getting stronger…

Gandalf blinked. "Mellon."

The sound of stone grating against stone filled their ears as the gates of Moria began to open. Elysia ruffled her clever little one's hair but her eyes did not stray from the dark water. They fellowship began to file in, but she lingered outside, not because of her dislike for underground but because the water was rippling shadily.

"What is it?" Aragorn whispered into her ear. He handed Elysia her rucksack, for they had released Bill the pony. A mine was no place for the steed.

Elysia's nostrils flared and she grimaced. "The water smells odd…" She repeated. "But I remember where I smelled this faintly before… Sea serpents' mouths smell that way occasionally. Naga said it is because of something she ate."

She tore her eyes away from the water and did her odd shrugging gesture. It was a gesture of nonchalance or confusion amongst winged dragon. They entered the cave with a wary eye lingering on the water before turning towards the dark of Moria.

"What was their diet?" Aragorn inquired.

Elysia pondered for a moment. "Mostly fish, sea turtles, whales, but there was the occasional tentacle creatu-" Her nostrils flared and she stopped walking into Moria.

A foul odor hung in the air. She smelled old death, but that was not what she found foul.

"Stop." She demanded, cutting off Gimli's claims of the wonders and hospitality of Moria. The fellowship stopped and turned back to the dragon who was bristling like a cat.

"Mithrandir, we should have never come here." She hissed, wide eyed and nervous as she continued to breathe in the foul scent in the obscure hall. Her pupils turned into slits, glinting with eye shine as she rapidly raked her sight around the darkness. Aragorn placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her frantic behavior, while Gandalf hastily placed his lighting crystal upon his staff. With a quick blow of magic, he lit up the mines, and the fellowship realized what made the composed Elysia so unnerved.

The entire hall was strewn with scattered skeletal bodies of dwarves. They were standing in the remains of a lost battle. The bodies were still armored, but they were peppered with arrows and wrapped with cobwebs. Legolas reached down and yanked an arrow.

Glaring at the barbed jagged black end, Legolas confirmed Elysia's dread.

"Goblins." He spat the word with contempt. Like the others, Elysia immediately drew her sword. Silvindr increased the shine of Gandalf's light with its refracting sheen.

"We will make for the gap of Rohan." Boromir said as they began to back away from the mines. "Get out… Get out!"

The hobbits suddenly began to cry out in terror. The warriors turned to see the hobbits struggling at the entrance. A long slimy tentacle was latched on to his ankle, attempting to pull him into the foul black waters. Before Elysia could even move, brave Samwise raised his sword and began hacking at the tentacle. He severed its grasp from the Ring bearer and the water fell silent as the wounded tendril retreated.

"Frodo, come here!" Elysia demanded as she rushed forward, but was too late. The loss of one tentacle seemed to have summoned many. Slipper whips lashed out at them, knocking away the hobbits and grasping Frodo once more. The hobbit was raised into the air, flailing and yelling.

"Elly!"

Elysia and the two men of the fellowship lunged forward. Silvinder lashed through the air and hacked off three tentacles in one fell swoop. She grimaced as a she deliberately smacked aside a tentacle rather haughtily; the thing was slimy and smelled strange and the dragon did not consent to the filthy thing touching her.

The water gurgled and from the depths of the blackness emerged a monstrous and hideous head. Elysia wondered in the back of her mind with significant horror;

_How in Arda can Naga even eat these?!_

The water monster looked miserably disgusting. Elysia would rather eat a reeking old warg than even take a bite of this fiendish cretin. The cretin began to open its mouth, revealing a protruding maw with rows of sharp teeth. Elysia hacked viciously at incoming tentacles with one hand and reached over her shoulder, loosening the strap holding Faersing. Gripping the black leather grip of Faersing she spun around, slicing a path with Silvindr and threw her long sword with a powerful arm. It whirled through the air and sank into the monster's head.

A roar erupted from the hideous maw as the sword burned the Watcher. It burned like fire, causing a jolt of pain through lance through every tentacle. Aragorn managed to free Frodo as Elysia lunged forward and leapt onto the fiend's head.

"Into the mines!" cried Gandalf, shoving the hobbits in. Boromir ran with Frodo in his arms, who cried out for Elysia.

Aragorn turned to the dragon as she stabbed Silvindr into the beast's head with one and grabbed Faersing with the other. Yanking both blades out, she gave one last slash at its head before leaping of its body. The beast gave an enraged roar and reached a long barbed tentacle for the dragon. Legolas quickly fired two arrows; one at the tentacle and another at its eye. Aragorn grabbed Elysia as she waded through the sluggish water and dragged her towards the entrance. As soon as they were on land, Elysia was pulling him faster into Moria as the creature began to drag itself towards them, unwilling to allow its prey to leave. The walls began to cave at the pressure, and Elysia narrowly made it through before a massive chunk of rock collapsed barely seconds where she once was.

Darkness embraced them. Elysia listened to the hammering hearts and hard breathing of the fellowship. Her own heart was palpating, but mainly because the darkness of the underground was suffocating. The ice cave in the glacier was fine, for the ice had brightened the cave enough to her liking and if the worst case was to come, she could always burn her way out of the ice. But stone caverns… Her heat was formidable, but she would turn cold before she could melt any sort entrance from dwarvish underground strongholds.

Gandalf's staff began to enlighten their vision once more. Elysia sighed and her tension unraveled minutely. She still felt a little too contained under this mountain. Claustrophobia began to writhe in her gut and she quickly began to fidget, returning Faersing back into its scabbard before adjusting the crossing strap holding Faersing to her back.

"Breathe, Elysia…" Gandalf's calm voice came from the front. The wizard did need to turn to his apprentice to notice her growing unease.

"Not easy with the foul air." She muttered, but she obeyed and began to breathe in and out, slowly. Mithrandir taught her this breathing exercise when she had her first panic attack in a cave they took shelter in. After hundreds of years, she still was not fond of rocky caves, and the acrid smell did not help to comfort her unease.

"We have no choice… We must face the long dark of Moria." Gandalf said ominously. "Be on your guard… There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

They treaded carefully over the old corpses. Boromir glanced to Elysia and whispered.

"Are you sure you do not want to keep that blue sword of yours drawn?"

Elysia's eyes scoured the walls and the ceiling with a small frown. "Yes… Faersing is a bit too ostentatious… It is best if our presence remain unnoticed." She whispered darkly.

To her utter relief, the path took them to a spacious opening and the foul smell was overwhelmed with a more tolerable scent. Elysia touched the walls curiously and leaned her nose closer to the stone. She sniffed and tilted her head like a canine with a curious scent.

"Mithril." She commented at Aragorn's odd glance at her sniffing. His surprise was immediately quelled; for a dragon's keen nose must also smell out metals.

Gandalf nodded and touched the bright starlit shimmering lines embedded in the rock walls.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels, but in mithril."

He pointed his staff more out towards the empty air, and within seconds the fellowship was nearly blinded by a radiant light shimmering from the deep long walls of Moria. The beauty made Elysia forget her unease. It shined brighter than a moonlit sky.

Gimli, realizing the strength of Elysia's keen olfactory senses, shook his head.

"If only we dwarves were on more favorable terms with you drakes. That nose of yours is very sharp, lass." Elysia smirked at the dwarf's praise.

"A drake that loves treasure has an even greater nose for it." Elysia stared at the shimmering depth with mild surprise. "I never had much fascination for rocks myself, but I can understand why you dwarves and some drakes are so fond of the material. It is beautiful."

"As are you and your scales, lass." Gimli stated.

Elysia blinked at this, startled by the compliment. Then she beamed at him a smile more radiant than the mithril around them.

"Thank you, Gimli." Her voice was full of warm sincerity, and the dragon even appeared a little flustered at the compliment.

Gandalf smiled and chuckled as he continued to guide them. "Thorin gave Bilbo a set of mithril rings."

Gimli, who was momentarily dazed by the dragon's smile,—she should wear that smile more often for it was lovely—gasped at the information, turning to the wizard.

"That was a kingly gift." He stated as they continued.

"Yes, I never told Bilbo, but that gift was worth more than the entire manor of the Shire."

Elysia paused in her walk and momentarily looked behind her, down at her little one. Frodo appeared equally astonished. The dragon breathed through her nose. Then she smiled, giving the hobbit a wink before hurrying to close the gap between her and the front portion of the line.

000

As Pippin slipped on the steep tall stairs for the third time, Elysia released a sigh and grabbed the hobbit by the back of his scruff, promptly heaving him up a particularly slippery few steps. She set him down to do the same to Merry before striding past them with swift stealth.

"Come, Pippin. The top is nearly there." encouraged the dragon.

Gandalf rose to the top, only to be met with three doorways. He had no memory of this particular place… Grimacing, he waited for the dragon to come up and meet him. Elysia sensed the wizard's need for her assistance and hastily hopped up the last of the steep steps. When she appeared by his side, she noticed the three ways and frowned.

"What?"

"Do you recall our last visit to Moria?"

"No… I refused to enter while you went in to search for King Thrain II, remember?" She gazed at the old wizard for a moment. "You forgot the way… Mithrandir, you are getting old." accused the dragon.

Her dry comment earned her a glare. The wizard looked sorely tempted to hit her with his staff, but the dragon whisked herself away before he could even move it.

"Insolent drake." He muttered darkly.

At the impediment to their journey, the fellowship rested while Gandalf sat on top of a rock and stared at the three entrances before him. Elysia began to scowl as she sat against a rocky edge. Her irritation did not lie with Pippin's hunger, or with the underground, but with the smell. Even the pipe weed scent from the raggedy ranger's pipe did little to mask the acridity of this place, emphasizing upon its lack of fresh air. It made her particularly gloomy, reminding her of her deprivation of flight as of late.

Legolas stood patiently with his arms crossed and keeping his bow to his chest in a leisure manner. He heard another small sigh come from the dragon and turned to see her scowl. Elysia noticed his stare, and this time met it with her own. The elf tilted his head in a questioning gesture, and the dragon looked hesitant for a moment. But the elf's patience rewarded him as Elysia stood up and within a few strides, she perched herself on a rock next to his towering figure. But she simply sat there… Something in her eyes eased as she took a deep breath.

Upon the elf's eyes still scrutinizing her she explained.

"Moria reeks… Elves smell nicer." The explaination was curt. He smelled of fresh leaves and everything green in nature.

At her blunt remark, Legolas gave a small nod and smile, for he was happy that they were on much easier terms-or at least attempting to be. He then sat next to her, allowing her to inhale more of his scent. The silent gesture visibly eased the dragon, and she merely hugged her knees to her chest and breathed.

"…. What is it you smell?" He asked softly.

Elysia did not open her eyes but she responded. "Moria smells of old death, metal, dust, rock, and the miserable list could go on." She muttered. "Elves smell of…. Softer things. It is a little arduous to explain to one who is not a dragon."

"I must insist you try, for I am very curious, milady." He insisted.

The dragon waved her hand and grimaced. "Oh enough with the milady and formalities, prince leaf. We are far past it in our relationship."

"And that is…?" He pressed.

She glanced at him, and mirth sparked in her eyes. "I burned your hair."

Legolas gave a small snort and smiled. The dragon closed her eyes and continued to breathe softly through her nose.

"So what is it you smell, Elysia?" Her name rolled off his tongue like a smooth song.

Elysia did not scowl, snap, or be curt; instead, her forehead furrowed in concentration under its wavy bangs as she tried to find the best words to describe it.

"…It is… alluring. It changes with season. You elves smell of autumn leaves in the fall, of winter pine and such in the winter, you smell of flowers and morning dew in the spring, and in the summer there is always an air of fresh green…. And upon closer examination, each being has a distinct scent to their person… You have a… _musk_." She grimaced at the word. "A distinct musk of the Prince of Woodland… It's nice."

_What was she even saying?_ Elysia almost grimaced at herself.

Her frank compliment made the Prince of Mirkwood smile, but she did not see. Their moment was interrupted by a sound from afar. Elysia jerked her head towards the noise while Legolas remained still.

"It is Gollum." He stated.

Elysia grimaced. "The wretched gremlin… He has been following us for three days. I must say, he is ever so persistent. He really does not add any good to this filthy stench." Releasing a sigh, she uncurled her tight ball and rose. Frodo noticed Gollum as well and was speaking urgently to Gandalf, and the keen wizard already knew.

Legolas's eyes lingered on her lithe back. Then the raggedy ranger rose from his spot and moved to sit next to the elf.

"_You do smell nice."_ He whispered in elvish, audibly enough for only the elf to hear. Legolas gave a slight glare at the ranger's tease.

Elysia sat at the lower rock near Gandalf's legs and silently listened to the wise words of the Istari. When Frodo exclaimed that it was a pity Bilbo did not kill him, Elysia glanced at the hobbit.

"It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand, little one… While dragons tend to see more mercy in slaying, Bilbo is no dragon…." She was gentle but firm, for it did sit well in her heart to have the little one speak so darkly.

"Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life." Gandalf added. Elysia listened as he counseled Frodo upon his morals.

So he believed that Gollum would have a part to play… Elysia pondered at that idea when Frodo sighed and sat next to Gandalf.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me…. I wish none of this had happened." said the young hobbit with a great forlorn atmosphere. Elysia felt Frodo's sorrow and was pained at his misery.

"So does all that live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide." Gandalf stated, and his hand came to rest upon Elysia's shoulder, for she knew better than many of the magnitude of Gandalf's words.

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us…" Stated the wise old Istari.

Elysia smiled gently at Frodo. "There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the ring. In which case, you also were meant to have it… and that is an encouraging thought."

She then frowned and her nose flared. The dragon turned curiously upon the right hand tunnel.

"Huh…" She began to pout in her wonder, a lighthearted look in such a dark underground in a darkening world. Elysia rose and walked towards the right tunnel, sniffing deep into the darkness.

"The air doesn't smell so foul down here." She explained.

Gandalf immediately brightened at this, rising to a stand he walked to his old apprentice and patted her head.

"Excellent work my dear dragon!" He turned to the others. "It's this way!"

"You remembered?" asked Merry.

Gandalf smiled. "No, but when in doubt, Merriadoc, follow your nose. Or in this case, a dragon's nose."

They followed Gandalf through the tunnel, and when they entered what appeared to be vast open chamber, the wizard raised his staff.

"Let me risk a little more light."

The staff light shined even further, illuminating the darkness and unveiling the magnitude of just how colossal the place was.

"Behold! The great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf."

Elysia opened her mouth, as did many of the fellowship. A gasp escaped Frodo at the sheer size and distance of the chamber. Columns upon columns of tall dark pillars stretched far and wide.

"Well there's an eye opener, no mistake." Sam commented. Elysia couldn't agree more with him. Indeed, it was hard to believe a chamber of this size dwelt under the Misty Mountain. Even a dragon would get disoriented by the sheer number of directions formed by the seemingly endless amount of pillars.

They began their way through the great chambers with the wizard in the lead, but something caught the dwarf's eye for he let out a gasp. When he realized what he saw, he released a cry and ran.

"Gimli!" cried Gandalf, and the fellowship followed the dwarf into Mazarbul, where more bodies were strewn out and in the place. A ray of light beamed upon a tomb where the only living dwarf within Moria knelt and began to weep.

Gandalf came over and read the engravings on the tomb. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin… Lord of Moria."

Elysia's lips parted but she could not breathe, not even a gasp to sound her sorrow. Memories of the old white bearded dwarf, whose wisdom Elysia greatly admired and gentle nature she often experienced, swept through her like a soft and warm breeze in the wind. An ache welled up in her chest.

Gandalf's eyes swept to Elysia, mirroring the sorrow. "He is dead then… It is as I feared." His voice was grave and solemn.

Elysia managed to shut her mouth and chewed her lip. The dragon walked up to the tomb too simple and plain for someone as honorable as Balin. With a hand to her heart, she muttered She blinked back the small prickle in her eyes for she refused to cry.

"Stydja unin mor'ranr, Balin-vor." (Rest in peace, honorable Balin) She whispered softly. In her somber moment of silence, another agonizingly nostalgic sight captured her eye. The dragon moved towards the dusty skeletal corpse leaning against Balin's tomb. It was holding a book and seemed to stare up at the ceiling, as if the dwarf were thinking of the sky in his dying breath.

She bent down and stared more eye level at the forlornly decaying figure enveloped in cobwebs and dust. Her mind began forming the peachy reddened skin, the short but thick auburn beard, and the odd hair and braids, the large nose, and those sweet dark eyes that always caught light at the sight of something he found worthy to draw or write about. His polite and attentive voice echoed in her mind, along with that youthful cheer of more innocence than Kili.

A hand rested upon her shoulder. Elysia did not have to turn and see to know that it was the wizard.

"… Ori…" She whispered.

This was the dwarf that inspired her to draw more of the world she saw, for it had done immeasurable encouragement to her heart when the dwarf saw her image of the Lonely Mountain from the sky. Here was a dwarf who had courage to become the scribe of their quest for Erebor, with a _slingshot_ as a weapon, and here the very dwarf was; left to rot and be forgotten.

Gandalf moved and gently took the book from the skeletal grasp of their old friend. Dust rained down from the shabby, frayed, and cut tome. A few pages fell out with the dust, but Gandalf did not mind. He flipped it to the near end where Ori had recorded the events to his dying breath. As he began to read from the tome, Elysia spotted a small rusted rectangle the size of a small book peek out, tucked under Ori's armpit.

With a gentle hand, she moved his arm a little to open the gap and tugged the dusty, rusted, flat rectangle loose. She turned it over curiously, discovering it to be a frame for a piece of paper. She blew the layer of dust gently off the framed photo and stared at the image.

Elysia released a shaky sigh upon the sight.

For there, on the paper, was a sketch of her and Bilbo, with Fili and Kili at her side and Gandalf at Bilbo's. It had signs of being drawn by Ori, for no other dwarf drew as well as him in Thorin's company. He had drawn this in his small sketchbook, and Elysia found herself impressed for she did not remember him ever drawing at this moment. Perhaps she had been too preoccupied, for in the picture she sat next to Bilbo who looked comforted and pleased to be in the familiar presence. She had Faersing on her lap, with its scabbard resting on Bilbo's legs. Kili was at her side, peering curiously and grinning like the rascal he was with Fili who looked a little more tame in his mirth.

She remembered this, how Kili and Fili bombarded her with questions of her sword. They were quite taken by its beauty, and Kili was a little dismayed she would not allow him to hold its handle that time. She looked calm in the picture, more at ease than she usually did on that quest, and even wore an exasperated smirk at Kili.

Elysia made move to store the picture in her rucksack, but she promptly froze at the racket behind her and Gandalf. The two beings of old whirled around, the silver beard and the black braid whipped about from the speed of their reaction.

Two pale piercing pairs of eyes stared at Peregrin Took, standing next to a now headless corpse sitting on a well.

The silence lingered for a moment, for fortune did not smile upon the Took. A loud creak emanated from the headless corpse and soon the entire frame fell; armor, bones, and dust—with the added bonus of a chained bucket. The deafening clamor echoed through Moria and took a long ten seconds to be silenced.

Elysia glared lividly at the hobbit, eyes like the storm. Pippin cringed. The silence was as deafening as the racket. She dropped the framed picture into her rucksack and flung it around her shoulder while Gandalf slammed the book shut. The fellowship let out a small exhale of breath, but the dragon and the wizard hardly looked relieved.

"Fool of a Took!" They both snapped, simultaneously.

Gandalf stepped forward and snatched the staff and pointy hat from the hobbit.

"Throw yourself in there, next time, and rid us of your stupidity!" He snapped, while Elysia looked ready to throttle the hobbit or throw him into the well herself.

But then the dragon grew rigid, for deep within the depths of Moria came a beat.

_Thud._

It was as if the Mines awakened, for the beat became steady, like a heart.

_Thud… Thud…_

Pippin turned back to the well, as everyone also began to hear the heart of the mountain. Its pace was beginning to quicken, like the palpating hearts of the fellowship as blood pulsed through their veins as if desperately trying to run and escape…

But there was no way out. They could not get out.

A guttural shriek echoed in the mines, and Elysia heard Sam exclaim with a hiss.

"Blue…"

Sting is glowing blue.

The dragon rushed towards Pippin who looked terrified, fearing her wrath.

"Elly, I'm s-sorr-" But the dragon merely grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and tossed him towards the other Halflings.

"They are coming." She hissed as she drew her falchion, pupils contracting into wild slits. She began to herd the hobbits closer to the tomb.

"Stay back and stay close to Gandalf!" She commanded. The hobbits dare not disobey those stormy eyes.

Boromir checked the door, only to be narrowly missed by two black arrows. Aragorn tossed his torch to the side and rushed to help Boromir shut the rotted wood doors.

"They have a cave troll." Boromir commented in mock dispassion.

As Gandalf drew Glamdring, the hobbits followed. The men barricaded the door, and Boromir stepped back next to Elysia.

"I think now would be a time to use that blue sword of yours."

Elysia did not reply but Faersing's pommel seemed to wink.

Gimli's grief was overcome with rage. He snarled and stood upon Balin's toom.

"Let them come!" He growled fiercely. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

Elysia turned to the hobbits; fear evident in their eyes but their faces showed determination that reminding her of Bilbo's impressive adamancy.

"Watch each other's backs, remember the lessons. Light on your feet and react rather than think." Her commanding voice brought them more courage.

The doors began to crack, jostling with the banging orcs, but as soon as an opening was made, Legolas and Aragorn fired their arrows. Squeals of pain leaked from the other side as the arrows met their mark, but pointy-stick throwers would not hold back an entire flock of these wretched beings.

They smashed through the hastily built and thus shabby barricade, and when they came within distance, Silvindr's edge was stained in putrid dark blood. She spun, parrying the blades attempting to slice at her back before decapitating a sloppy charging orc. Yanking out her curved dagger, she slit one's throat before bisecting another with Silvindr at lightning fast pace. Her foul mood at the filthy blood spattering her clothes, blade, and hair added to her vicious edge. Spotting Merry having trouble in the distance, she threw her ridged curved dagger, downing the orc and allowing Merry to have time to regain his stance and stab another.

Before Merry or Pippin could say thank you, Elysia rushed to them, yanking out her dagger from the orc she glared at the two.

"You are a cornered animal here, Peregrin, Merriadoc!" She did not bother to turn as she imbedded her falchion's tip into the face of an incoming enemy.

"Get Frodo and keep him safe on higher ground!" demanded the dragon as she finished off another.

The crash and rattling chains of the cave troll caught her attention. Aragorn and Boromir managed to deter the massive stupid but violent creature from leaving Sam as nothing but a pulpy stain against the wall. But the troll then turned and flung Boromir to the wall.

Elysia promptly punched an orc in the face as they began to round her to the corner. The dragon ran to the walls and promptly kicked off them as jagged blade came down where she had stood. Landing now behind them, she quickly made work with Silvindr.

She turned around only to duck as a grubby large hand reached for her. Elysia sheathed her dagger and once again dodged at the hand. This troll was trying to capture her…

The dragon refused to consent being handled like some doll, and in a flash of blue, Faersing sang in the air and sliced off two calloused fingers of the troll. It roared in agony while Elysia ran through the gap between its legs, sliding on one leg as she sliced a knee. The smelly creature staggered.

Faersing gleamed in violent joy as its blue edge dripped dark blood, and its master made sure to keep it happy, slicing through armor, hacking off heads, and impaling torsos. Elysia parried with Silvindr and stabbed with Faersing at two orcs when she heard the dreadful sound in the heat of the battle. Finishing off her prey, Elysia whipped her head around to see a blood freezing sight.

Frodo, impaled by the prong of the troll's forked spear, looked out of breathe and in agony. The dragon saw fire as rage began to blaze within her. Faersing crackled like lightning as its blue began to burn more lividly than before. The fellowship was also enraged as they began to fight with more ferocity than ever. Gandalf roared as Glamdring sliced the troll's rib. Gimli threw another axe at the troll. But Elysia…

She hurled Silvindr with a growl, and the blade went straight into the troll's back. Charging forward, she stepped on Silvindr's hilt and leapt on top of the troll. Her teeth became serrated as she released a fierce snarl. Faersing stabbed through the back of the troll's neck, like a predator latching its fangs onto prey. A gurgle bubbled from the troll tried to reach up at its neck, its vitals severed. It was suffocating with its own blood, but Elysia's assault did not stop there. She twisted Faersing mercilessly in the wound before yanking out the blood drenched blade, swinging up and slashing diagonally down deep into the base of the neck. The blue blade cut through hide, meat, and bone, severing the spine so that only its flesh kept the head from splitting from the shoulders.

The troll fell onto its stomach with a loud rumbling thud, and the prince of Mirkwood stared at the woman, an arrow had been drawn for he was prepared to help her. But when she simply pounced upon prey significantly bigger than its predator, he was rather mesmerized by the ferocious sight.

He wasn't the only one. The warriors stared at the dragon straightening itself to a stand tall. Her hands were covered in gore, staining her sleeves. Black blood smeared on her pale cheek and neck, moistening the locks framing her face. The predatory savagery in those eyes sent ice in their blood. No one said anything, not a sound. Elysia simply walked to the lower back of the troll and with a violent yank, she pulled out Silvindr from its flesh. A small shuffle came from her right. An orc was still alive, feeble but moving.

The dragon walked down from her kill, strides heavy and firm. When she stood with the creature at her feet, she raised a single leg and smashed it down on the head.

The males flinched as the head cracked open. Slimy black pulp oozed from the unrecognizable head.

A small weak and raspy breathe caught her attention. Aragorn had gone to Frodo, dreading the blank stare of lifelessness he would see. But when Aragorn flipped Frodo over, the hobbit gave a grunt and gasp of pain. The fellowship was startled, and the dragon's savage look was gone in place of astonishment and hope. To Legolas it was as sudden and odd as a wild wolf turning into a tamed dog within a heartbeat.

Sam was already there with Aragorn when Elysia came. He sighed in relief.

"He's alive." He assured her, but Elysia still checked him with her own eyes. He was breathing hard, sweating, and a little pained but there was no bleeding wound. He wasn't dying, and Elysia leaned against the wall in relief.

"You should be dead." Aragorn exclaimed. "That spear would've skewered a wild boar."

Suddenly, they heard Elysia give out a raspy chuckle. She stared at the ceiling, smirking to herself as she shook her head.

"Of course…" She whispered with mirth. "You Bagginses never cease to surprise me." How could she have forgotten about the mithril? It was as hard as dragon scales. A mere cave troll could not penetrate that immaculate armor.

Gandalf smiled. "I think there is more to the hobbit than meets the eye." And sure enough, they were greeting with the sparkling radiance of the mithril shirt. But their relief and wonder could not last, for the sound of an army echoed through the tunnel.

"Quick! To the bridge of Khazad-dum." Gandalf barked.

Upon Gandalf's order, they quickly left the deathtrap. Elysia took one last look at Balin's broken tomb before a certain elf prince gently grabbed her wrist.

"Elysia, we cannot linger." He urged.

The dragon gritted her teeth and turned away from the broken tomb. Even if they turn to dust, Elysia shall never forget them. A dragon would never forget those who they have befriended and experienced great adversity together.

_Farewell Balin... Ori..._

Goblins began to crawl out from every crack and corner of the great chamber, flooding in and rushing towards them like a rush of an angry insect colony. They even began to leak out of the ceiling; flooding in too fast.

"Gandalf!" Elysia cried. For if she changed into her form, perhaps she could incinerate a path for them or scare the creatures off.

"No!" Gandalf refuted her unspoken idea. "You will be shot down before you can even do anything!"

They were forced to stop, for the goblins surrounded them. In the sea of hideous faces, Elysia snarled and raised her blades.

"We will die anyways!" She snarled. "Mithrandir, I can get us out!"

"Elysia! You know what lies in-"

A deep ground shaking growl echoed through the chamber of Dwarrowdelf, and with its echo, a wave of silence came. Elysia nearly dropped her blades. Her scales itched and shuddered from within as the fellowship spotted a flaming orange light consuming the far off end of the chambers. Goblins began to scream and yelp in fear, for they knew what awoke. Another snarl from the deep bellowed through the halls.

The goblins began to scatter, and it would have brought relief if they were not met with an even fouler terror.

"Mithrandir." Elysia whispered; eyes wide and swords lowered. Gandalf had told her once of what the dwarves awoken in their greedy dig within the mines. It was the main reason why Elysia refused to enter with the wizard in his last visit; for she had seen these demons before, with the great storm of ash that came with the Forsworn Shadow. These creatures were worthy foes of the oldest of her kind, for they killed many dragons and to defeat one was considered one of the highest accomplishments.

"What knew devilry is this?" Boromir asked.

"… A Balrog." Elysia hissed. Gandalf shut his eyes and whispered. "A demon of the ancient world…."

The orange light was coming closer, the growls becoming louder.

"This foe is beyond any of you." Gandalf stated. _Even for their dragon._

"RUN!" He cried.

They ran with new vigor. Elysia and Gandalf ran behind the others, for the evil weighted upon them like chains. The balrog's dark pressure was suffocating.

"Ebrithil." Elysia panted.

"Keep running, Elysa. Do not look back." Gandalf urged, for he knew she felt its great malice as well. It was whispering to her, and the very shadows of Moria were like poison.

"**I can smell you, little wyrm."**

Elysia felt fear run cold through her blood. She sheathed Silvindr, keeping Faersing still in her hand and leaned against the wall. The bridge was so near, but this presence was squeezing her.

"Elysia." Aragorn whispered. Gandalf, who also looked drained by the presence of sheer evil, turned to his old apprentice.

"Do not listen to the shadows, Elysia!" He urged before pushing Aragorn. "Hurry and lead them on! The bridge is near!"

"But-"

"Do as I say!" He barked. "Swords are no more use here." The wizard grabbed his apprentice and jostled her harshly.

"Elysia… Listen to my voice."

"_**It can sense the Ring… It's calling to me…"**_ She whispered.

"Elly!" Frodo called from in front, noticing she was too far apart. She cringed at the sound of her little one's voice.

"Remember your friends, remember your _oath_." Gandalf urged, and they could not linger. He dragged the dragon towards the broken bridge where Legolas had already leapt to the other side. The wizard hesitated and forced the dragon to go first. But Elysia froze as the guttural voice echoed in her mind.

"**Come to me, little wyrm… Do not linger in the presence of that weak little slave of the Valar…"**

Elysia wanted to shut her ears. She wanted to be deaf. Its deep bellowing voice was bouncing off the walls of her brain and filling her mind with poison. She needed light, she needed air, she needed to-

"Elysia!" Legolas's voice seemed to stab into her mind and shove away the poison, like clear water cleaning a foul stream with a great flood.

Legolas reached out with his hand, his eyes assuring. "Elysia, come." His voice was much softer, much lighter, than the Balrog's poisonous words. The command blew away the cloud in her mind, and she leapt. She did not need help, but Legolas grabbed her anyways, his grasp on her arm lingering as if to comfort her.

Gandalf went next before a chunk of the bridge fell. Goblins began to shoot from afar, and Legolas clenched his jaws as he began to try firing arrows and attempt in helping the perilous leap. Elysia finally shook her head and gritted her teeth.

"Keep firing." She demanded as she took his place. Now was not the time to quell in fear. She made an oath, and no foul demon of fire and shadow would stop her from fulfilling it.

Elysia caught Sam in her arms and gently placed him behind her. The dwarf came next, and he refused to be tossed. He leapt and nearly fell, but Elysia grabbed his long red beard, ignoring his protest and yanking him to safety. Boromir leapt with Pippin and Merry in his grasp, making it across, but when Aragorn and Frodo came, the bridge fell apart even further.

The gap between the fellowship and the two was impossible to leap, but…

Elysia quickly unstrapped her belt and back strap from her form, sheathing Faersing she rushed to Sam in the back.

"Samwise!" She began to wrap the belt around his waist and tightened Faersing's strap onto his back.

"I need you to look after Faersing and Silvindr for me. Do NOT lose them, do I make myself clear?"

Sam nodded frantically. Silvindr was too big to lay dormant at his belt so he somewhat hugged it to his chest.

"Yes, Miss Elly!" He replied quickly, for it was no good to waste time of an impatient dragon.

"Do not touch Faersing's handle." And with that warning, Elysia backed further into an emptier space. In a rush of blue light, she leapt off the side of the bridge, causing Boromir and Gimli to cry out.

Aragorn and Frodo began to sway dangerously on the unstable island. Aragorn was going to commence his last resort, using gravity to perhaps aid them to cross, but a gust of wind interrupted them. A blue dragon landed behind them and with its clawed hands hooked on their backs, they were airborne.

Frodo yelped as he was plucked off the ground like a kitten before he and Aragorn landed ahead of the group on the bridge. Gandalf looked irritated but relieved, and whipped his head to glare at the dragon perched on an edge.

"What did I say!" He barked.

"I am not your apprentice anymore, Mithrandir! You can thank me later." The sapphire dragon snarled, raking its claws on the rock. "Now MOVE!"

She was in her small form, for she was merely begging for a trap if she were to be in her fullest height. The dragon inhaled sharply as the fellowship began to move. Legolas fired at a goblin before it could string an arrow and aim at the drake. Elysia's head snapped towards the far off balcony and hissed. Lightning blue light crackled in her maw, and a glow of blue seeped dimly through her scales. The dragon spat out a bright blue and purple comet. Legolas felt the ground rumble at the impact, as the comet met its mark and burst with a loud warped blast, obliterating the balcony of archers.

The elf and drake looked at each other, and Legolas could only nod before hastily moving to follow the rest of the males. Elysia made sure they all were secure before she shoved herself off the perch and took flight. Her lithe form darted through the air, weaving through the pillars of rock left and right.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf cried as the bridge was drawing nearer. But the Balrog was even closer. Merry tripped and fell while Gandalf spun around to see the beast.

It was truly a spawn of devils as it rose from the wall of flame with a great snarl before crouching low at the Istari. Horned, vicious, and demonic, this creature was the embodiment of shadow and flame. It opened its maws and released a sweltering hot roar.

But another sound cut its great show of might. A keen howling roar shook the Lonely Mountain caverns, and in the midst of the roaring autumn hued fires, a plasmic comet of lightning hue shot through the dark and struck the Barlog's open mouthed face. With the Balrog's heated roar interrupted, it staggered back at the explosive force of impact.

Gandalf almost fell on his back at the shockwave from the close proximity of the blast. Elysia quickly descended towards the ground, folding her wings as she ran like a feline towards her gray wizard. She sharply turned and shoved Gandalf back, jostling him to turn and run with the others.

"GO YOU BLOODY OLD WIZARD!" She snarled and ran with him. Her fierce demand encouraged the fellowship at a faster pace to the bridge. Elysia turned to see the Balrog look absolutely livid—more than it already appeared—as its seething glare focused on her.

"**I will have you hide, you defiant little wyrm… Then I will present you to my master!"**

The dragon hissed and she spat another comet of fire and lightning at the demon creature.

"Try and catch me, you bumbling lump of coal!" she patronized.

The demon staggered back as it was struck with another explosive blast.

Elysia made for the air with a leap before the Balrog could stomp or snatch where she was. The fellowship was crossing the narrow bridge. Good, but she had to buy them more time.

"**You think you can run? I will hunt you down as I have done with many of your kin, Dragon of the Storm."**

Elysia almost faltered in her flight. She landed on the other side, clinging to the ledge with her claws.

"…_**. You were there…"**_ She hissed, as her pupils contracted into thin slits. Legolas leaned over the edge and knelt.

"Elysia! Change and come! Hurry!"

But the dragon didn't seem to hear him this time around. She was as still as a statue, petrified with terror. Legolas never knew a dragon could look so horrified.

"Elysia!" He cried desperately.

The Balrog knew the ancient tongue of her kind, for it was old and ancient. It had hunted and enslaved enough to learn. A growling guttural chuckle filled the air.

"_**Yes… Yes I was."**_

This demon was there that day. It came with the shadow… It contributed to the Place of Sorrow…

Gandalf turned at the middle of the bridge and faced the foul being of shadow and fire. Rage rivaling the malice of the demon burned in those pale eyes of the ancient Istari.

"You were there at the Eyrie…" His voice was dark. Glamdring and the staff clenched tightly in each hand, the wizard stood poised to fight against the massive demon dwarfing his gray form.

The petrified look vanished in Elysia's eyes. Instead, they began to burn with the fury of a hurricane. Legolas almost threw himself back with the dragon snarled.

"You… Were… THERE!" She leapt off the ledge and took flight.

"Elysia!" Legolas cried. The rest of the fellowship turned, and the Ring bearer's eyes went round as saucers in sheer horror. His small but stout frame froze upon the sight on the bridge.

The very hair on the back of their necks began to bristle at the electricity in the air. Sam felt Faersing shiver and spark, connected to the dragon's wrath.

Gandalf the Gray stood at the bridge, towards the end. His staff was aglow as he glared at the balrog before him. Sweat beaded his wrinkled face from the sheer heat, but nothing... nothing would deter the Istari… or the dragon.

Elysia landed behind Mithrandir, tail lashing and lean muscles bulging. Her form seemed to be growing bigger as her wings stretched out as a show of her wrath and might. The three beings of ancient power were at a standstill; shadow and flame on one side and the light of Valar and the scaled storm barricading its way.

The gray wizard's voice echoed through the Mines.

"YOU CANNOT PASS!"

A bone rattling roar came from the blue drake, emphasizing the power in the wizard's words.

"GANDALF! ELLY!" Frodo cried, lunging forward, only to be held back by a strong arm from Boromir or Aragorn.

The Balrog glared at its two foes and began to rise to a straighter stand. It raised its arms to show its might, igniting its fiery mane around it to an even brighter and hotter radiance. It spread its wings and a blaze drenched its entire form. A massive flaming sword and a whip of fire formed in each of its great dark clutches.

The dragon spread its wings and growled at its challenging display, and the fellowship witnessed a confrontation of legends as the devil's red flame and darkness battled with the blue flames of proud justice and the warrior of light.

All three mighty beings direct descendants of ancient powers; good and evil fighting to the death. A balrog, an Istari, and a dragon; the legendary showdown has begun.

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Read and Review!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: A part of this chapter was inspired greatly by Brisingr, of the Inheritance cycle. Why? Because there was one scene in Brisingr that actually made me teary eyed. It was the first time I have ever cried for a book. Perhaps it was lame, but that moment struck me. For those Eragon fans who know which chapter I speak of, that scene/idea was a beautiful moment.

Anyway, thank you for reading!

With utmost sincerity, E.L Wright

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Disclaimer: I own nothing of LOTR or anything of Inheritance.

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Chapter 10: Nightmares, Dreams, and Memories

The Balrog snarled in rage, pouring sweltering heat upon them with its foul breath.

"**You dare challenge me?!"**

Elysia snarled back, and Gandalf came forth, raising his staff and sword.

"I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" cried the Istari. A pale blue barrier of light began to cover their front. The Balrog puffed up its chest and rose to its full height, stepping one foot on the bridge. It growled and raised its sword, smashing it down on the barrier. Elysia did not retaliate, for she knew what Gandalf intended.

As the fiery blade smashed down, the barrier withstood and shattered the weapon into molten fragments. Elysia then took the opening and spat her lightning fire upon its arm. The blast sent the Balrog back, and it roared in rage as the plasmic blue flame lingered on its arm. Its red flames did not seem to have any effect in turning the fire as its own. Yet, being a beast of fire, it did little to truly maim the great terror.

The Balrog staggered, it swung its other arm. The whip snapped out, and Elysia moved to block it from Gandalf. It lashed around her neck and did not loosen.

Elysia released a roar as she tried to yank herself free, but the fiery rope tightened. The Balrog's nostrils flared and as if it were taming a dog, the demon yanked the dragon. Gandalf nearly fell off the bridge as Elysia was jostled and jerked in the air.

"**Come here you wyrm!"**

It pulled the dragon closer. The demon outsized her in this form, it reached and grabbed her by the neck. Elysia gasped as she tried to release another bolt of fire, but the Balrog sensed this and gripped tighter.

"**You will cease your struggle, little wyrm… Obey and I shall keep you alive!"**

The arrogant remark only made the dragon struggle and thrash fiercer. Elysia clawed at the shadowy black arm and defiantly smacked the Balrog's face with her powerful tail. The act only made the dmon grab tighter.

"**Insolent little wyrm. I will **_**break**_** you." **The Balrog smashed her against the rock, narrowly crushing her wings. Elysia felt the bones of her arm right at the odd crushing angle, protest severely. She cried out in pain and went limp.

"You shall not take her!" Gandalf summoned a bright whitened blue blast that struck the spot where Elysia wounded the flaming demon. The sacrosanct light seemed to bring great anguish into the Balrog. It released Elysia, sending her plummeting down the abyss. Gandalf cried out for his former apprentice but the Balrog recovered from his strike and prepared to smash its fist on the wizard. A blue blur shot up from the dark and in a warping blast, struck the Balrog yet again in the head, shoving it back from the wizard.

Elysia landed behind the Istari, growling. Her right arm was cradled to her chest and her entire frame heaved up and down with deep labored breaths. Lungs burning and head aching from the pressuring grip of the balrog, Elysia nearly blacked out. But the dragon's will was strong and resilient.

"**Do not try to run!" **The Balrog began to rise once more, flexing its wounded arm. **"I will hunt you as I have done with all the others… You will never escape me!"**

"Then I'll just have to KILL YOU!" Elysia snarled savagely, and spat another fire bolt at its chest. As it staggered back once more, Elysia was prepared to leap and tackle the demon in a head on collision.

But her old master suddenly pivoted and faced her fully, back facing against their enemy.

"_**Ebrithil, what-"**_ He of all people knew never should turn your back on your enemy in a fight.

Gandalf the Gray stared at her in a way she never quite saw before. His eyes were watery and he was _smiling_. Has the heat addled his brain? They were in the middle of battling a Balrog and this old wizard had the audacity to smile? Was he even _sane_?

He gazed upon her with a beaming pride and from the depths of those old twinkling eyes, she saw great love. It was as if Gandalf was looking at her, admiring her strength and her growth since he first met her, acting as if….

This was the last time he would see her.

"_**It has been an honor to fight by you, Elysia Bjartskular."**_

Elysia faltered at the sudden honorable title and praise. Her wings began to droop and fold to her body.

"…. Ebri-"

"I am no longer your 'master' Elysia…. Forgive me, my child." the old Istari croaked.

Gandalf suddenly moved forward and his staff and struck the dragon square in the chest. Elysia felt a massive pulse of bone shaking magic rattle her draconian frame, and she was flung back against the far wall. Her scales seemed to loosen and shed away in a swirl of familiar blue light around her. She was shrink-shifting against her will, by Gandalf's magic and resolve.

A dark haired, pale skinned, and petite framed Elysia smacked against the wall before landing on the dusty flat rock. Her chest felt sore from the surge of magic and her entire body ached, severely battered by the Balrog's wrath. She released a pained cry as her right arm greatly protested the jostle of her body. Cradling it against her chest, she attempted to rise only to fall feebly back on the hard ground. The Balrog's merciless grip on her neck had damaged her severely, poisoning her strength with its black essence. The contact with the sinister magic left her drained and feeble.

Gandalf turned back to the Balrog and brandished his weapons.

"Go back to the shadows!" He snarled.

Elysia, determined to aid him, began to drag herself towards the bridge. Every bone, muscle, and nerve in her body screamed in protest.

_Gandalf…_

The ancient demon of flame and shadow snapped its whip defiantly. The gray Istari raised his staff.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" with the cry, he struck the floor of the bridge and a blast of light echoed from the touch. Nothing seemed to happen, and the Balrog snorted. It took another step and raised its fiery whip.

"Gandalf!" Elysia cried.

The bridge suddenly cracked as the Balrog's foot stepped forward. The ancient demon roared as it began to fall down into the abysmal depths of Moria, wherever it may be. Gandalf released a tired breath and turned, intent on tending to his wounded companion.

_SNAP_

The sound of a whip startled their ears. In the last act of vengeance, the Balrog had its whip snap out and coil around Mithrandir's ankle, determined to bring him down to the abyss with it. The wizard cried out as he was yanked down. Old wrinkled hands latched on the crack of the bridge as staff and sword fell into the dark.

Frodo was terrified. He wanted to go to them. Elly looked too worn to even stand, and Gandalf was about to fall.

"GANDALF!"

Elysia whimpered and against the agony of her feeble body. She began to squirm, crawl, and pull herself further towards her old teacher. Silver hair in even more disarray, the Istari looked at the dragon crawling so forlornly in desperation. They met eyes, and Elysia stopped her crawling when she saw the resolution on his face.

"Ebrithil…" She whispered, sounding frightened and uncertainly soft.

_Stop... Stop looking at me that way... _

_Stop looking as Vraiel did before I slept... Before he died..._

Gandalf's lip trembled as he gazed at her dirty sweat laden face, but he forced out his last words.

"Fly, you fools."

Elysia gasped and shoved herself forward with her waning strength, just as the wizard let go. She was still a generous distance away from the broken end, but it was too late anyway.

He let go.

Gandalf let go.

Mithrandir fell into the darkness.

Her teacher has fallen.

Elysia's ears were deaf to the anguished cry of the Ring bearer. Someone called out her name, but she could not move to see who. She had lost all strength to the shock. It was as though the last of her strength fell with her beloved master.

The fellowship was forced to move back as goblins began to fire their arrows. Boromir grabbed the distraught hobbit and carried him away. Aragorn shoved Gimli towards the way out, and turned to retrieve Elysia or at least try.

But Legolas had beaten him to it.

"Legolas!" He cried and ran after his friend.

Legolas fired upon the goblins as he leapt back down towards the bridge. Nimble and determined, he dodged arrows aimed at him with each step and leap, firing and firing as he went. With one last great jump, he landed by the fallen dragon. Her hair was nearly undone from its braid, matting her dirt and sweat stained face. Her eyes were open but they seemed to see nothing. The visible skin on her neck was angrily red and dark with bruises.

"Elysia!" she was unresponsive to his cry. He spared no time. The elf scooped up the lithe woman in his firm arms and began to head back towards the exit path. Elysia remained unmoving in his arms, sending a stab of fear into the elf. With Aragorn nearing them, Legolas passed the woman gently to his friend and began to provide cover fire as they ran.

...

Despair. If there was only one word one could use to define the fellowship at that moment, it was despair. The hobbits wept for never have they thought they would experience such nightmare and grief as they had just did within the Mines of Moria. Merry held Pippin as he sobbed. Samwise Gamgee dug nails into his scalp as he wept. They all mourned, and whether tears were shed or not, the loss was the same. They lost their Istari, the riddled Gray Pilgrim of Middle Earth; the one who had been to many places and done many things but ALWAYS lived to tell the tale.

Legolas and Aragorn finally stopped as they found the light, but the brightness did no comfort to their sorrow and exhaustion. The elf turned as Elysia finally moved. She blinked in Aragorn's arms with dull eyes, striking dread into the elf and ranger. Where was the flare? The storm? There was not even anger or grief.

Nothing… She was an empty shell.

Like her frozen kin in the mountains.

But she was alive, for she breathed and she blinked. Finally, she began to move. Grabbing Aragorn's shoulder and moving from his grasp. The ranger gently relented, but as soon as he set down the dragon, the slowness and deathly calm shattered. She had stood there for only a second before she clutched her head and doubled over. They saw her face twist into agony, her eyes mad and lost before she curled down into a tight distraught ball.

She could not cry, she would not cry, dragons did not cry, but the anguish, sorrow, and sheer mourning guilt of the loss tore her apart. The one person she found, on that very cold day, in that very cold place, the first person, after so many years of loss, terror, and pain, to show her that there was some good in this world, that there was always something worth fighting, living, and dying for… The one man who taught her to be merciful, hopeful, and accepting of fears with courage… The guardian figure that brought it upon himself to strengthen her, lead her, and protect her throughout the ages was now no more. After years and years of all those adventures, laughs, and troubles spent together, he was now gone.

But in her heart, there was that undefinable faith... A faith that grew into a fact. However gone he was from her, Gandalf _always_ came back...

She wanted to believe that. She _had_ to believe that. That man could not just leave her here alone after everything. He could not leave her at this loss.

Gandalf the Gray, Stormcrow, the Gray Pilgrim, the grumpy old grouch full of riddles, her _Ebrithil_ cannot be dead.

Now more than anything she wanted him to be here. He wanted him to tell her something, tell her what to do, because for the first time she felt so _lost_. In her frantic state of mind, a single memory flashed through her head.

"_Fly, you fools."_

Fly… Yes… She needed to fly…

Elysia did not care if she was acting insane or irrational. Her mind was a hurricane and this world too still and too calm at the moment. It needed to be reversed.

Aragorn and Legolas barely managed to leap back as Elysia's curled up figure began to contort. Naught a minute had passed when this woman seemed dead to the world; huddled on the floor.

Volatile and desperate in her crumbling control, Elysia began to shift. This time there was no bothering with any sort of spell. Scales ripped through her clothing, tearing them as if they were paper. She began to grow in size as her wings burst from her back. A howling roar echoed from her as she slammed her clawed hands against the ground. They were soon in the presence of the blue dragon, small, battered, and wild with grief.

"Elysia." said the elf, hesitant and anxious. Legolas stepped forward but the dragon lashed its tail out. The elf barely managed to dodge the powerful appendage when the dragon hissed.

"FLY!" She snarled and her wings spread.

"No!" Aragorn lunged forward to perhaps tackle the beast down, but she was too fast. She launched herself high in the air and began to fly.

The ranger cursed and raked a hand through his head. This fellowship was breaking…. First Gandalf fell, now Elysia flew, and to track a flying creature was impossible. Whether they liked it or not, they must move. They could not linger here and wait for the dragon to return. Aragorn despaired momentarily, but a decision had to be made.

"We must move! By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" The words felt like acid out of his mouth.

He turned to his friend who still stared at the sky. "Legolas… Get them up."

"What of Elysia?" The elf almost glared at the ranger.

Aragorn had no answer. Instead, he announced to the others. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien!"

"We are to leave her?" Legolas nearly snapped out the words, contradictory to his usual mild persona.

"We cannot linger here, mellon…." stated Aragorn. Then he rested his hand on the elf's shoulder.

"But we do not abandon friends." he added.

The ranger then ran, searching for the one member of their group who knew Elysia the most. He mildly panicked when Frodo was missing, but after a quick search, he discovered the hobbit grieving from afar. Running up to the hobbit, he placed his hands upon his shoulders.

"Frodo, there is little time. Elysia has gone."

"I know." Frodo whispered with those heartbroken eyes. "I saw…" She must have left him because of the Ring, because Gandalf was dead. He blamed himself for the wizard's fall, so why wouldn't Elysia? Her beloved master is dead because of him and this wretched burden.

"Frodo, listen to me!" Aragorn knew what lament ran in the Ring bearer's mind. "Do you truly believe so little in your friend? She made an unbreakable vow to you, Frodo… She is ancient… She knows what perils could be faced if she came… Gandalf knew… Your friends knew and they still accompanied you. This fellowship formed for a reason…. Do not underestimate its strength." He whispered fiercely, grip on the hobbit's shoulders firm.

Tears fell from the hobbits eyes as he cast his eyes down. "I do not know where she flew…" He admitted shamefully. Aragorn despaired but simply stood up and looked about, as if hoping for there to be any other sign.

Then hope seemed to come in the form of a plump hobbit.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam was running to them, no longer weeping for he had something urgent. "I think I know how we can find out." said the hobbit, sparking their attention. He was clutching two familiar swords in his hand.

Frodo focused on the blue longsword. His eyes widened. He ran pass Aragorn and to Sam and the swords.

"Faersing." He whispered. The sapphire pommel seemed to wink at the uttering of the name.

The fellowship began to gather around them as hope sparked in Frodo's eyes. Sam gently laid Silvindr on the rock but held Faersing by its dark blue scabbard in front of Frodo. The others seemed confused at Frodo's and Sam's attentive behavior around the sword, all except Aragorn and Legolas.

"Her swords." Boromir commented. He had always admired the blue sword, for it radiated power unlike any blade he has ever seen.

"Miss Elly left them in my care." Sam stated while Frodo gently touched the scabbard, but never the handle or even the pommel or crossguard.

The Ringbearer then spoke in a rush. "Elly told me Faersing was forged by her own flame… She said it was made from the metal of a falling star and her own _scale_… This sword is a part of her, an extension of her spirit by some magic her people possess. I think it might even have a mind of its own. We can use it to find Elly."

The fellowship was silent at the odd explanation. Boromir frowned. "How?"

"I-I do not know…" Frodo admitted.

The steward meant not to discourage the hobbit. He stared at the sword and reached.

"Perhaps if it is held and-"

"No!" Aragorn, Sam, Frodo, and even Legolas all warned simutaneously.

But the steward of Gondor had grabbed the handle, and the reaction was instantaneous. The sapphire pommel burned a bright and rather violent swirling blue hue, and the sword itself hummed to life. A bright cerulean echo burst from the handle and an invisible force promptly shoved Boromir away, firing a zap of lightning through his arms. The steward let out a cry and held his stiff and twitching arm as he fell.

Gimli helped him back up and grimaced at the blade. The pommel was returning to its usual deep color.

"That blade is proud and has a temper…. Reminds me of a certain lass." He grumbled.

Frodo looked extremely apologetic while Sam appeared sheepish.

"As I said… It has a mind of its own…. It allows no other to wield it… None but its master." stated the Ringbearer.

"Well…" Boromir glared at the sword, cradling his arm. "_How_ are we supposed to even ask? Do we just shout at its pommel?"

Sam gave the man a snide glance while Frodo simply looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps in her tongue." Legolas advised. "Perhaps if you ask in that language of truth, Faersing will show the way."

The elf's bright idea was certainly worth a shot. Frodo bit his lip and thought to a few choice words he knew of the language. He grabbed Faersing by the scabbard and held it straight up in the air. Frowning in determination, the hobbit spoke.

"_**I am a friend to your master."**_

At the draconian tongue, the sword seemed to hum. Its ovular sapphire winked like an eye gazing curiously at the hobbit. The creature caught the strange soul item's attention.

"_**Faersing, I seek your master… May you be my guide?"** _Frodo humbly requested.

The sword fell silent. A moment passed and not a word was spoken, but slowly the fellowship began to share disappointment.

Then the oddest sensation overcame Frodo. The sword's scabbard seemed to tingle in his hands, and then the pommel began to glow.

"It's wo-"

Frodo let out a small yelp of surprise as the sword _moved_ in his hand. It yanked him forward. Frodo broke apart from the group as the sword pulled and pulled until finally it forced Frodo to hold it with the pommel facing out towards the land.

The fellowship hastily followed, not questioning the oddity that the sword was _moving_ and jostling Frodo like a domineering leader. Frodo frowned when the tingle in his fingers morphed into more of a pulsating sensation. The glow of the pommel remained. Curiously, he moved the sword elsewhere, but as soon as it was pointed off from its original direction, the pommel began to dull and dim and the pulsating sensation returned to a tingle.

"It's pointing…" He whispered. The odd magic dawned on him. He turned to Aragorn.

"It's pointing! It glows and feels stronger this way than it does any other way!" He explained. The ranger ran forward, giving one gently pat to Frodo's head before he stared at the direction the pommel pointed.

Aragorn almost smiled. "Lothlórien…" So they will meet her in their original route. Legolas smiled while Gimli was more vocal.

"Come on now lads! We can't keep the lass waiting, now can we!" He raised his axe and with it, the morals of the fellowship. They began to gather their things and run. Sam still held Silvindr against him while Frodo used Faersing as his guide.

000

Pain lanced through her body with every beat of her wings, but she did not stop. She could not stop. Her body, however, began to rule over her mind as soon exhaustion began to stiffen her muscles and slow her. Soon, she would collapse in a heap of scales.

But what made her sink was neither exhaustion nor pain, it was the voice in her mind screaming at her.

"_Beware of the Eye."_

The dragon's pupils contracted as it inhaled sharply through the nose, for this voice was not her own. Regaining her senses, she realized there was a foreign presence in her mind.

"_Are you alone, Bjartskular?"_

It was like a slap to her face. Elysia almost dropped out of the sky. The voice stimulated one rational thought in the dragon.

_What am I doing?_

What has she done? How could she have abandoned the fellowship? She just flew off like a mad bird, but not before lashing out at Legolas and Aragorn. Shame overwhelmed her, her and with it, the pain and exhaustion weighed her by tenfold. She began to descend, aiming to find her fellowship. Elysia made a vow, and she must uphold it.

"_Let them find you…. They are already coming…"_

This voice… This presence in her mind. She felt it before. Elysia began to graze the tall trees before she noticed her descent had brought her this low. Her vision was turning hazy and her wings felt sluggish. There just a few meters ahead was an opening the trees, a landing clearing. She mustered one last great beat of her wings and continued forward. Upon arriving at the gap in the canopy, her strength failed her and Elysia began to fall.

_I remember you_. She thought in her daze.

"_Yes… You do."_ The voice was melodious, softer and more enchanting than the loveliest songbird, but the ethereal presence in her head made her scales itch.

_Galadriel…._

Canopies snapped and rustled. A dragon burst from the great woods of Lothlórien and crashed into a lake, tumbling across the water from her great momentum until she came to a slow stop. There, the dragon floated feebly and the magic in the forest began to answer its desperate need.

000

Haldir had been warned he would be surprised and also ordered not to shoot the being he would find in a lake west of the citadel. However, he was still caught completely off guard—quite a feat for the fearless immortal—by the "guest" he would find at the lake.

The marchwarden raised up a hand, telling his squad to be prepared for the great Lady Galadriel had advised him-albeit vaguely-that "the guest might come off a little… unpredictable".

But was this truly their "guest"? He stared at the floating winged mass of sapphire blue scales in the water. It looked to be dead, for it was unmoving as it drifted closer towards the shore, akin to a piece of driftwood... a large, scaly, winged piece of driftwood. Haldir tilted his head and neared the water, ordering his elves to stay where they were. The head was half submerged, revealing a pair of horns jutting out the back of the skull. With its sleek aerodynamic build and the wings and jewel-like scales, he wondered in utter bewilderment. Was he looking at a _dragon_?

He stopped on the shore as the dragon began to shrink and fade in a cloud of loose blue scales, fading into wisps of blue until eventually all was left was a pale humanoid figure floating in the water with a black mass of hair on their head. Haldir hesitated for a moment, but he quickly began to step into the water and waded towards the figure. His sharp eyes made out the feminine curve of her slender back. When her front began to slowly float and face up, he breathed in sharply; for as her body rotated, he saw a mottle of bruises upon her lissome form. He could not stand and stare longer, for she began to sink under the water.

Haldir was waist deep when he reached her. The marchwarden quickly reached under the water, towards her. But before his fingers could even graze a strand of her hair, great stormy silver blue eyes snapped open. With a great splash of water, the marchwarden found himself being grabbed by his neck by a slender hand with a steel grip. The dragon maiden rose from the water like a siren of the sea, raven hair drenched and fair face fiercely unreadable. The water matted her dark wavy hair to her body, acting as the only coverage for her modesty in the bare form.

The elf noticed her right arm mottled with more severe bruises an ugly shade of purple. The parts of her torso exposed from her hair were of maroon shade while her neck bore an angry red ring of skin. The rest of her body seemed to fair no better. She glared at him with wildness in those piercing eyes, exhausted and battered.

When she burst out so violently, the rest of his elves raised their bows, ready to release arrows upon her at the chance. Haldir noticed her eyes flicker from him to his elves, frantically assessing her survival in the situation. She was acting like a wounded animal, and she should be for she was indeed wounded.

"We mean you no harm." Haldir stated. He raised his hand and gently touched the arm of the hand gripping his neck.

The maiden was breathing hard, shoulder rising up and down, chest heaving. When Haldir touched her arm and gently began to pry her fingers from his neck, the female collapsed entirely. Her eyes rolled back and she fell back into the water with a splash. The elf quickly moved forward and caught her fall against his chest. Waiting to see if she would move, he slowly scooped her up and out of the water when he discovered she was firmly unconscious. But when his arm graced her upper thigh, he was reminded of her nudity. Quickly, he unclasped his gray cloak and placed it over the more reserved areas with the chivalry to gaze anywhere but down at her.

The archers lowered their bows curiously as the marchwarden carried a dark haired maiden in his arms. His cloak hid her most body, leaving her legs and arms bare.

Orophin tilted his head and peered down at the petite woman.

"_Was this woman a dragon naught but two minutes ago?"_ He inquired upon his brother.

Haldir nodded. _"Come, we cannot linger. The Lady of Light awaits her presence."_

Rumil neared his brothers, lowering his hood to gaze at the female closely. He held his bow in one hand and reached attentively. Light and gentle, the elf moved the dark waves from the maiden's temple. He removed enough hair to unveil the slight point on her small ear.

"_Is she a she-elf?"_ pondered the second brother.

"_She cannot be a she-elf."_ Orophin stated. _"Did you not just see the dragon?"_

"_We all saw the dragon, and now we must move. If anyone is to have answers, the Lady of Light shall." _Haldir walked off and the brothers glanced at each other before they followed like the rest of their squad.

000

She was placed in a tub of water within the canopy, in the highest of flets and the holiest of places in Lothlorien. The tub was imbued into the floor of the room, leaving the dragon maiden half submerged in the crystalline liquid. Silver light gleamed upon her limp form, bringing forth an ethereal shimmer in the crystal carved pool. The elven maidservants were ordered by the great lady to wrap her body in a shroud of soft silver cloth.

And the Lady of Lothlórien herself was standing near the resting pool. Garbed in a robe of pale silver and pearly sheen, she walked slowly around the slumbering dragon. Her radiance began to illuminate the maiden's pale cheek as she came to kneel near the water. A pale hand of heavenly elegance reached for the dragon and gently caressed her forehead with a feather light touch. The flower shaped elven ring, Nenya, shined on a delicate finger.

"You hold great promises with you… Like your sire… Sleep now, Brightscales…" Her whispering soothed the dragon, for her harmonious voice was a lullaby of angels.

"Sleep… and heal." said Galadriel as she gave one gently tap on the water. The tip of her ringed finger barely touching its surface. The Ring of Adamant shined like a star and the water began to look even lighter in the crystal tub.

000

_"Welcome, Legolas, son of Thranduil."_ Haldir gestured politely in greeting the prince of Mirkwood. They had entered Lothlórien, only to be intercepted by a squad of elves, quelling Frodo's growing hope for Faersing's pommel was shining brighter, and it was even humming in his hand. He was impatient to find Elly, for he could not lose her. They already lost one member of the fellowship, and they could not lose another beloved member, especially Elysia.

_"Our fellowship stands in your debt." _Legolas responded in courtesy. _"Haldir of Lorien."_

Haldir shared greeting with Aragorn, having heard of the Dunedain, but the courteous air of greeting was disturbed by Gimli, earning them a glare. Legolas did not have the patience this time to have a discriminating row occur between the dwarf and Haldir. In the back of his mind, he mused if this was how Elysia felt whenever she witnessed the banter between him and the master dwarf.

"_Haldir, have you seen a blue scaled creature roam as you scout? Or perhaps a fair maiden with black hair. She appears to be an elf, but stands shorter."_ asked the Woodland prince.

Haldir's eyes were light with recognition, and Legolas was hopeful. He nodded but when his eyes fell upon Frodo, the marchwarden turned cold.

"You bring great evil here. You can go no further." the marchwarden nearly hissed.

Legolas felt a spike of irritation and his blue eyes flashed like lightning. _"Where is she?" _

Haldir tilted his head, mildly startled at the Prince's sudden sharp change. _"What is she to you?"_ inquired the marchwarden, curious and suspicious.

Before Legolas could reply, Aragorn stepped forward. _"She is our friend. A part of our fellowship." _

Legolas appeared ready to raise an arrow at Haldir, for the elf was growing impatient. Elysia was wounded and exhausted from the clash with the balrog. Without her weapons, she would be vulnerable.

Haldir and Aragorn's whispered argument eventually ended when Legolas stepped forward looking rather dangerous as he spoke.

"_You will take us to Elysia. You know where she is."_ The elf used the rare aristocratic ice in his voice, an ability he inherited from Thranduil. While the prince was rather kinger than his sire, he was not so limited by his goodnatured person to entirely refrain from frigidity.

Haldir cocked a delicate brow at his demand. _"What makes you so volatile for this woman?" _asked the marchwarden.

"_Must we repeat ourselves? She is our friend, now you either take us to her or bring her to us." _Legolas leaned forward, glaring at the marchwarden; their tall heights on par with each other. Yet the prince held a much more refined and menacing air.

"_I cannot." _Haldir said. _"For she is with the Lady of Light."_

"_Then take us to her."_ Legolas repeated. _"Or I will go and retrieve her myself."_

The elf of Lorien looked affronted at the bold behavior of the prince. Aragorn then gave the elf a pleading look before he could retort the prince, causing the marchwarden to sigh and begrudgingly relent, but not before staring curiously at Legolas.

They followed the Lothlórien elves into the forest and eventually came to Caras Galadhon. Frodo admired the great Mallorn trees as Faersing began to hum brighter and pulsate quicker like an excited heart. The elves escorting them glanced curiously at the sword, but upon Aragorn's warning they strayed from the handle.

When they climbed up the stairs and arrived at the tall white arches of Galadriel's flet, the sight of the she-elf struck their hearts like a spear of light. Even the discriminating dwarf had his resentments quelled against the sheer beauty of this elf, for Galadriel was indeed the Lady of Light. She was more angel than elf as she came down those steps with Lord Celeborn as her escort. Shining with radiance from the tip of her dainty feet, every seam of her white dress, to every strand of her lovely rivulets of wavy golden and star streaked hair, Lady Galadriel was without a doubt a heavenly sight.

When she spoke, the voice of an angel both resonated in their ears and minds.; for Lord Celeborn mentioned Gandalf but none had spoken. She knew from their secret hearts of what occurred to their beloved Mithrandir.

"… He has fallen into shadow." She whispered.

Legolas met the eyes of Galadriel and informed her. "He was taken by both shadow and flame… A Balrog of Morgoth." The word felt like poison on his lips, but he said what must be known.

The Lady Galadriel gazed at them with those piercing eyes. Her voice echoed in their heads as her fair full lips moved.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife… Stray but a little and it will fall, to the ruin of all… Yet hope remains while the company is true." Her eyes lingered upon Sam and Frodo.

Sam stepped forward, his courage coming as he swallowed hard. "Our company is incomplete, Lady Galadriel… We…"

The Lady of Light smiled upon Samwise Gamgee. "Yes… Do not trouble yourselves. The maiden sleeps, healing from her wounds of darkness. The festering of evil has ceased in the dragon."

Frodo looked up with more hope than before.

"You wish to see…" Galadriel's smile widened. She then turned with an air of sacrosanct grace. "Follow me…"

The elven maiden guided them through the canopies of the great Mallorn trees. Frodo grimaced as a particularly strong pulse echoed from Faersing.

"The sword calls for its master." Galadriel commented smoothly as she walked. "It need not call any longer, for she is here."

They entered a strange room melded with the tree. The light of this room appeared of more radiance than the usual luster of Lothlórien. The fellowship's eyes focused upon the center, for there in the low hanging hammock, partially submerged in a crystal tub of starry water lay Elysia.

Faersing stopped glowing and pulsing strangely altogether when they found the dragon. Relief swept through them, but they still stepped forward, for she appeared too still. Legolas knelt low near the water and frowned at the red around her neck and the blackened arm on her side. The silver dress left her shoulders bare, revealing a few more bruises above the old scars of past battles.

"She sleeps to regain her strength… for she has also grown weary." Galadriel assured the silent worries of the prince.

Her eyes lingered upon the Ring bearer who set down Faersing in the corner. He froze when her voice echoed in his mind.

"_You know of her past with the Ring, Frodo Baggins…. Its darkness brings war within her soul, for it tempts her and torments her with the ghosts of her past…. Should she linger near the Ring as it draws closer to Mount Doom, the Brightscales you know shall perish under darkness of more evil than the one you have seen in Khazad-dum."_

Frodo's breath hitched at this. He clenched his fists and stared at Elysia. She remained so still in the water.

"When shall she wake?" Legolas inquired.

Galadriel smiled. "In due time… Do not be troubled by her state… For fate requires her greatly in the future. Go now and rest, for you are weary with much toil. The dragon shall wake when the time is right… And she will come to you…"

Her eyes lingered upon the Prince of Mirkwood.

"_Do you _see_ her, son of Thranduil?"_

Legolas said nothing, but he blinked as he stood with the rest of the fellowship. Galadriel's gaze swept over them, yet in his mind her voice still echoed.

"_She _will_ see you… For fates have tied together green and blue."_

Legolas nearly lost his composure upon her riddled words, but a hand rested on his shoulder. Aragorn urged him to come and leave, for they could not deny the hospitality offered by the Lady of Light. Taking one last look at their dragon resting in the liquid light, they departed with heavy hearts.

000

** She was not alone in her mind. The dragon felt the sacred presence of the fair being of light. For once, Elysia found herself rather indifferent to the foreign presence. There was a reason she avoided Lothlórien in the past, for her mind was a private place. Whenever she neared Lothlórien, she shielded her mind, but now… She was too worn and curious, for what would bring the great Lady Galadriel to commune with her this way?**

** Her dark world began to morph, and with the light came a small serene land above the clouds. She was standing near the side of a cliff. Silver green grass danced around her while she looked at the clouds hiding whatever land laid bellow. She was clothed in a wrapping dress of royal blue and silver; her feet were bare, tickled by the odd pale grass. **

"**They called you the bastard daughter of Sapphira….." The dragon whirled around to see the Lady Galadriel stand before her. Behind the fair lady, there stood a great Mallorn tree with golden leaves rustling against the breeze. **

**Elysia frowned. "How do you know my mother's name?" demanded the dragon.**

**The Lady of Light smiled at her sharp inquiry. "So fierce and proud, was Lady Sapphira Bjartskular. Not unlike you, Lady Elysia Stormdragon, but you are… different." The lovely she-elf tilted her golden head. "That is such, for you also are not unlike your sire."**

"**My sire?" Her frown faltered. "My mother has not spoken a word of my sire's identity to anyone, not even me, Lady Galadriel… I know not of who he is so why should it matter that I am like him?" **

** Her words were bittersweet. Long has she wondered who her sire was, but after centuries up centuries of growing up without his identity to mind, she cast the subject aside as a long forgotten unsolved riddle.**

"**Because I know." The lady raised her hand to halt Elysia's words. "But it matters naught of who he is?"**

"**You know?" said Elysia, scowling in confusion. **

"**Yes… Shall I enlighten you upon who he is?" inquired Galadriel, gazing at her with eyes belying the youth of her radiant appearance. Those jewels shined with age, wisdom, and power.**

**Elysia pondered briefly upon the lady's question and responded curtly. **

"**I'd rather you enlighten me upon **_**why**_**." Her response made the powerful fair she-elf blink. Elysia hugged her arms to her chest and sighed, looking far off into the distance.**

"**I rather not know who, before I know the why… Why did he abandon my mother? What was it that was so shameful or worthy of such secrecy that even I knew not of who he is? If the reason for why is something shameful…. I would rather not know the name for knowing the name means I acknowledge, even for a second… that the man is my sire." She glared at her, but the glare was not designated towards the elf.**

"**If his reasons are naught but pathetic excuses, I refuse to acknowledge him."**

**Galadriel did not look offended by the cutting edge of this dragon's voice nor by her glare. In fact, her eyes began to lighten with a sparkle of wonder as she smiled. Elysia blinked and stared oddly, causing the lady to laugh.**

"… **It amuses me, Stormdragon…. For you are one who can speak in riddles, yet with great pride… A combination inherited by the union between your sire and your mother."**

**Elysia sighed at the elf's whimsical behavior. "… If anything, his identity hardly matters…" She whispered to herself. But this was her mind, and Galadriel knew all that went on here in the dragon's mind realm. **

"**It does not?" She pressed the inquiry gently.**

"...**No." Elysia stated stoutly. "For I have lived long enough that the knowledge will be trivial… For the Dragons of the Storm… Our fathers teach us, they guide us, they show us how to fly, and watch us as we grow. My mother taught me to be proud and fierce, Gwahir showed me the way of the wind, and it was my Ebrithil who guided me and watched me grow. If anything, I do not need a father, for I have found a father in Gandalf."**

** Pride seemed to beam from Galadriel's radiant face. She smiled brightly upon the dragon maiden.**

"… **You are smiling once again…" Elysia deadpanned. "This is unnerving."**

**Galadriel chuckled and reached out to her. She towered over the dragon maiden and her gentle hands rested upon her shoulders.**

"**It is odd of you to think of such things… Endearingly odd and admirable… Fear not of your sire taking any place of the sire that resides in your heart, Elysia Bjartskular… For he is already there." **

**Elysia stared up at the fair elf maiden. Eyes narrowing as she whispered.**

"**What do you mean?"**

"**As a dragon, you know there is a reason for all occurrences in this world." Galadriel stated as she brushed a curled lock of hair from Elysia's cheek. **

"**Particularly you, Elysia Stormdragon, are born at the time you were for a purpose... Born to see your world in ash and blood, you came to Middle Earth… Have you not wondered why your senses of Sauron's evil are sharper than a mithril needle? Why magic runs deeper through your veins, why you differ from your kinsmen, why you out of all your kind are more guarded from the corruption of the Shadow? **

** It is not just because of your fear, born from the scars of Ristvak'baen… It is because of the archaic blood within you, inherited from your sire… ****Dragons are descendants of Maia… Indeed they are… from Maia who have **_**changed**_** and stayed in the first likeness of a drake.**

**However, you, Elysia Stormdragon, are the **_**direct**_** descendant… A result of the joining between a dragon and a Maia." informed Galadriel, who appeared more and more wondrous upon scrutinizing the dragon.**

** Speechless, Elysia could only stare as Galadriel moved closer, inches from her face.**

"**You were conceived and born before he came to Middle Earth… Before he changed his form and wandered amongst the lands with great quests and adventures to add to his title."**

**Galadriel cupped her face and smiled warmly.**

"**You are indeed your sire's daughter, Elysia Istari's daughter, successor of Mithrandir... You are a stormdrake born from the Stormcrow..."**

** Something stirred with in the dragon's heart. It was as though a great locked door had become unsealed, and a burden she has never known fell from her chest. Elation came in one swift sweep. **

**Then came the confusion and the irritation, punching the lungs of the dragon.**

"**Why…" She whispered breathlessly. "Why… After all this time… After all these years… They **_**never**_** said anything."**

**Galadriel gazed gently at the despairing dragon. "Perhaps… It is best if he tells you."**

"**He can't." Her voice cracked as her throat began to feel tight. "… He **_**fell**_**." Despair coiled her heart once more. But then the she-elf spoke.**

** "…. He is here…. But only as a memory…" Galadriel's hand shifted, and she put a hand on Elysia's back. "There was a time when Mithrander came to me… The day you came to Rivendell with Durin's descendants and his company… He asked me to pass on this memory unto you when the time is right."**

"**Where is it? Where can I see it?" Elysia asked almost desperately. **

"**My dear…. You are **_**in**_** it." The she-elf then moved and gestured with a single hand towards the spot behind her. There, sitting in the pavilion of Rivendell sat Gandalf the Gray, smoking pipe weed from his long pipe.**

**The sight stilled the dragon. She drank in the sight of the old Istari as a thirsty man would an oasis. Her body began to thaw under Galadriel's encouraging push****. She stepped slowly into the memory and stood before the old man cloaked in gray.**

"_**My dear dragon…" **_**He smiled.**

**Elysia stared at him. The emotions once spiraling within her quelled into some undefinable sensation. She gazed upon the very real yet unreal figure of the old Istari… she gazed upon her father.**

* * *

**Read and Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

A song always helps to set the mood.

watch?v=VD-FYHdgI_8

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Chapter 11: Tears of Past and Future

_**"My dear dragon…" Gandalf smiled as he released a small puff of smoke. "I suppose it is time I tell you everything…" He sighed.**_

"_**I shall start from the beginning… **_

_** I was known, before my time as an Istari, as Olórin. I did not look as I do now as I did then. My form was fair and elven as Olórin, but I also went by as many forms… It was my time as Olórin when I encountered Sapphira Brightscales of the Storm…**__**And oh, what a sight she was to behold both as a dragon and as a woman." His eyes took on a whimsical mist. Then he chuckled.**_

"_**Your mother was proud, vain even for she proclaimed herself to be the fairest of her kind but with good reason…"**_

_**Elysia snorted at this. Of course she knew of her mother's spectacular vanity. **_

"_**She was fierce, answering to no one, and if her ferocity did not maim others, her sharp tongue certainly would…. When I first encountered her, I thought her to be the mightiest storm for she was something to be awed and feared…. Every scale of her body shined like dazzling blue sapphires, rippling with light akin to the sun shining upon the bluest of seas. Those eyes deeper than the deepest of waters and sharper than the sharpest of blades… Her hairs were in graceful curls of onyx… Not even the darkest of storms could dissuade her radiance, and even the fiercest cowed under wrath. She made the proudest of males kneel with a single arch of her dark wing shaped brow….**_

_**But what made me enraptured with that enchantingly ferocious woman was her limitless capacity for those she truly loved…. And to this day, I wondered how did such a lovely creature select me as her heart, for she certainly captured mine but even to those she mated she never gave her heart…"**_

_** Gandalf smirked to himself then gave a small lighthearted glance to Elysia who listened raptly to his every word. She saw the love he bore for her mother. Every word that came from him was so sincere and mystifying it made her chest ache.**_

_** "She had captured my heart and every single moment together, when I looked upon her face into those penetrating sapphire orbs of hers, I knew I had hers… But alas, with darkness beginning to rise, our times of love and peace together became limited…" **_

_**Sadness swept through Gandalf, and the old wizard heaved a long smoke filled sigh.**_

"_**We knew the day would come, as a humble loyal servant of Manwe and Varda that I must leave her… She had her responsibilities with her people and urged me to tend to mine… We parted and she shed her tears for the first time… for me…"**_

_** Tears glistened and Gandalf swallowed hard. **_

"_**Never a day went by." His voice shook. "Without my thoughts lingering upon her… And upon you… I always wondered how you would grow, and always knew you would grow to be something formidable… Knowing your mother…" A water chuckle escaped him. He was no longer smoking from his pipe.**_

"_**Then the word came to me when I dwelt one day in the gardens of Irmo. A great tragedy struck the Eyrie of the Storms… I went with immediate haste, fearing the worst but hoping… hoping as I visited the Eyrie for the first time after we parted…."**_

_** A tear fell, caressing his wrinkled face and lingering on his beard. **_

"_**But what met me was…." He swallowed hard, unable to finish. "My heart broke and I nearly perished… But there was hope… I felt it in my soul that there was a glimmer of hope. I came to the Eldest to call upon his wisdom, to define this strange hope…. The Eldest then told me… 'The hope which you seek has fallen… into the deep, under the ice, and there it waits in Middle Earth'… Fate had blessed me with fortune and honor, for when I returned, I was one of the five of the Istari to be sent to Middle Earth to counsel and assist those who are free for Sauron's terror was rising…**_

_** I came to Middle Earth with this task… But in my heart, there was another purpose… The Eldest said to follow that remaining shard of light in your brokenness… I wandered years and years amongst the people of Middle Earth, searching and hoping…"**_

_** A small whimsical smile overcame him. He was staring at the sky.**_

"_**It was as if she watched me in the stars… She guided me to you that day..."**_

_**Mithrandir then gazed at her. He gazed at her with such love and wonder…. Elysia remembered this… She remembered that gaze, because it had been the first thing she saw in the cave of ice.**_

_** "You look so much like your mother… You ac like her too…. Both of you curl your hair behind your ears and gazed upon dirt and grime as though it was a sin with your uncanny need to stay clean."**_

_** They both chuckled this time. Gandalf wiped his eyes with a wrinkled finger and smiled wider.**_

_** "But I also saw some of myself in you…. You did not have your mother's eyes, which I believe was good… I always thought her form was too **_**blue**_**, lovely but blue… You had humility in you along with pride, which startled me so… for your mother had not a single raindrop of humility…" He chortled, shaking his head.**_

"_**A tendency to find troublesome adventures and speak in riddles… And of course, a great fondness for hobbits… As fierce as your mother, stubborn, sharp tongued, equally loving, and I daresay the best at flying…"**_

_**Elysia swelled with pride in this. Gandalf continued.**_

"_**But you knew fear… You are indeed a dragon, but unlike your kind, you admitted your fears yet persevered in courage and could not remain as indifferent to the world as they did. You are keen in your surroundings, especially in the ancient essence of magic around you for you are a child of an Istari… You are **_**my**_** child."**_

_**The old wizard was not smiling but nor was he crying. He stared with serious honesty.**_

"_**I am sorry… I am sorry for everything… Forgive me for never being there. Forgive me for leaving you to see such horrors." His voice broke, but he did not cry. He looked too pained to cry, and it hurt Elysia to see him so broken.**_

"**You **_**were**_** there… You raised me… I would not be who I am today if you did not exist in my life." Elysia forced out in her tightness. She knew he could not hear her, and it pained her to know. **

"_**I was fearful of your fate if you knew, your mother feared for your fate as well… For your singularity would mark you as a greater target for the evil… But I feared most of your resentment… I was a coward, for I loved you too dearly to bear your hatred… Perhaps that was why I could not find it in my heart to tell you directly….**_

_**But you have grown so beautifully… Fortune smiled upon me in this, for you are a magnificent being… It would be an honor if you deemed me as your sire. May the stars always watch over you, Elysia Bjartskular, child of Mithrandir…. Remember and have strength, my dear dragon, for I love you… You made your sire proud."**_

**The memory vanished in a mist of light. Elysia watched as Gandalf faded before her, his great love and smile never waning.**

"… **They are waiting." She turned to see Galadriel waiting to the side. The Lady of Lothlórien gazed at her, and to the dragon's surprise, there were tears trailing down the lovely she-elf's face. Did she see the memory as well?**

**"We are in your mind… I shall see what you see." She explained.**

**Elysia tilted her head, mystified. "Who is waiting?"**

"… **People who bear much love and loyalty to you." Galadriel smiled. "Come, Lady Elysia, Brightscales…" The lady held out her hand for the dragon to take. After some hesitation, the dragon reached out and took the soft slender hand.**

"**You bear great purpose, child of Mithrandir…." Galadriel's voice whispered in her mind as the woman was shrouded in a blinding light. Elysia could not look away as this mind's realm began to fade in her radiance.**

Bright paled eyes snapped open. The calm water rippled as Elysia inhaled a sharp intake of breath. Feeling soft and enlightened with energy, she rose from the strange bright waters. She was in a strange room, high in the trees. Silvindr and Faersing were placed upon a pale drawer. Mallorn trees stood tall in the distance, donned with spiraling stairs and dim moonlit lights. Elvish songs filled her ears and the aroma of magic enraptured her senses.

"This quest will bring you much pain…" Elysia whipped her head around, causing a wet lock to whip her cheek as she gazed at the Lady of Light standing before her.

"Your strengths shall be tested, and you shall be pushed to the edge." On Galadriel's cheeks, there still lingered a light trail of tears.

Elysia found herself replying. "I have been pushed to the edge, before. The solution is to fly."

Galadriel smiled at her remark. "There is a storm brewing… Should you continue your path, you shall fly straight into it… It shall bring you much toil, but should you avoid it…" she did not finish, and closed her eyes. "I cannot foresee either paths, but I fear them both…"

Strain appeared on Galadriel's fair face. Feeling uneasy with the twist of her complexion, Elysia spoke.

"I am the greatest flier of my kind… Should I need to fly through the storm, I shan't fly with hesitation. The toil matters not to me, for I am a Stormdrake and the daughter of Mithrandir."

The strain turned into a small smile. "So you have chosen…." She whispered.

"I am a dragon of my word." Elysia stood up and exited the pool. Water dripped from her form and began to puddle around her. "They are here, are they not?" She felt impatient. How long was she asleep? How long were they waiting?

"They are waiting for you, resting and waiting… how fairs your body?" Galadriel asked, but she could see. Her body was free of bruises, and her arm held the same cream hue, unmarred by the grotesque purple and black.

The lament for Gandalf echoed through Lothlórien; hauntingly alluring but the pleasing sound was all the more painful for them to hear. Legolas had not the heart to tell them of its meaning, for the sorrow was too great, and he worried for their recovering dragon. She still had not woken, and it has been several days since. Without the dragon maiden's presence, the fellowship felt too still for him, too insecure, too lifeless. She brought the fire with her fierce presence and quick wit.

The Prince walked through the great citadel, admiring the beauty with mild interest. His heart was still too grasped upon the fate of the dragon. He stopped midstride and frowned at himself. His mind constantly seemed to lingered upon her, and his heart clung to those thoughts like a thirsty man with water. He found himself missing the smallest things of her presence; from her refreshing wit to her strange musk of sun kissed peaks. He missed the way she stood there with that unyielding stance and the low alluring tenor of her voice.

He should indeed miss her, for all of their fellowship did, but to think of her with such intimacy and so suddenly?... He found himself comparing the beauty of this place and its people with her beauty. Lothlórien was enchanting and peaceful. But Legolas found his mind preferring the fierce radiance of Elysia. The Prince of Mirkwood almost sighed.

He was supposed to be admiring Lothlórien, not _comparing_ it to the dragon.

Legolas suddenly began to recall the day when he first encountered her. His heart was lingering towards Tauriel when he met the dragon. The first encounter with Elysia certainly left his world a little shaken. She made him want to leave his father's kingdom, to yearn for adventure and see the world she saw that made her so striking. Ever since their first meeting, she made him think of other things than admiring Tauriel, patrolling his father's woods, and simply _existing_ as an immortal. She inspired him to do something great, and when he came to Rivendell and when the Halfling took the burden, it was his chance to be a part of something big and something great.

When they travelled together, his thoughts of her began to grow. It began to morph from curiosity to mild admiration to something more. She was captivating, and when he saw how she treated her friends, he hungered for her friendship and to just bask in the fierce but highly amusing presence of the dragon. She made him feel many things against his mild and cheerful disposition. She made him feel uneasy, anger, frustration, youthful, great curiosity, and that undefinable heat in his core.

His mind snapped out of reverie at a sudden wind caressing his face. Legolas immediately looked up, for he knew the caress of her sudden gales. A blur of blue streaked through the trees, and for a moment he thought his elf eyes tricked him… But then she curved with a great tilt of her wings and descended meters in front of him. Scales began to disperse into a storm of blue light and before the drake's claws could touch the ground, she landed on a pair of pale dainty feet. Garbed in silver and white, she stared at him.

And when he gazed into those eyes, he found an answer to his great reverie.

Legolas had seen many fair maidens both elf and human in his time, so beauty in appearance was nothing new. He admired and was admired in return, and the only time he deemed to show greater interest in the opposite gender was with Tauriel… But when he saw Elysia, as he stared at her now under the pale light of Lothlórien; perhaps it was the melody and the magic of this enchanting place, but he felt as though he never had seen such truer beauty that captured his heart. He found himself frustrated that he had been blind before to this, whether by his affections for Tauriel or simply because he never sought such beauty.

The soft ethereal dress draped her lithe stature, its front half cut short compared to the back, allowing her feet to walk without the impediment of the skirt. Its silver embroidery brought a bright gleam out of her almond eyes as they stared with that penetrating edge, shadowed by those long thick lashes. Onyx curls fell in lustrously thick waves, beholding a wild elegance, untamed by no circlet or braid as it fell down to caress the curves of her breast. Her petite frame and soft dress had done nothing to lessen the formidable aura of power and pride in her presence. She was fiercer than any she-elf, resilient, bold, honest, and he could not deny she tended to be rather snide and crude. But it was all that about her, all the flaws, beauties, amongst many other qualities she possessed that made him adore her, and thirst for the honor of her presence all the more.

Right then and there, Legolas realized he had grown to love this woman. He was enraptured by a dragon, and with each passing day in her presence it would grow to the point where his heart would always yearn, unyielding and forever in its loyalty to her if it was not already. He was willing to give his heart to her, a _dragon_, but the Prince began to wonder if she would ever give him the honor of giving hers. Did she see him in the way he saw her?

But despite the uncertainty, he could not help himself. As soon as Elysia cocked a brow and stared at him with that questioning and almost haughty manner, he strode to her and immediately embraced her.

He felt her stiffen in his arms as he wrapped one around her waist and the other around her arm, pressing her against his towering form and inhaling the scent of her hair as he buried his nose into the soft curls. She still remained rigid for a few heartbeats, but then eased her tension and he marveled at her warmth and the way she fit so perfectly against his frame. Hesitant hands slowly reached up and gently pressed against his back, exciting his heart. Legolas longed to keep her there and hold her tighter, but he was already too rash enough. If he were to win her heart, he doubted that sudden advances would do anything to woo her. So he released her solid lean frame and was more amused than disappointed when she dropped her arms faster than he would shoot an arrow.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Needless to say it was awkward. Elysia then spoke, just as Legolas also did.

"I see that you are well."

"Forgive me for my suddenness."

They stopped again at the rapid words. Elysia then felt her ears turn red while Legolas chuckled.

"It is you that I should be asking. I did not tackle a balrog head on."

"Technically, I did not." She countered. "I spat at it." She frowned at the oddness of her words, but the Prince of Mirkwood began to giggle in that melodious elven way of his.

"Yes… You did _spit_ at a servant of Morgoth…" His smile then faltered. "Forgive me… For speaking of such dark things… How fairs your body, Elysia?" Her name felt like a song when he let it roll of his tongue.

"It has healed, but a good few days of rest and food should return it to its usual resilience." She smirked a little tiredly. "Are the others well?"

"They wait for you, may I escort you?" He held out his elbow, and Elysia took it with a gentle grip. They walked through Lothlórien in silence, listening to the songs as the elves mourned the loss of Mithrandir. Elysia appeared composed and lively, but both of them knew better. Deep in her heart, Elysia wept. Yet, Legolas saw a light in her. Something has enlightened the dragon of an ancient burden, but he knew better than to pry.

She smelled the familiar scent of the fellowship before her eyes fell upon the sight. To her surprise, it was Peregrin Took who first sighted her and immediately sprung up and ran to her. Elysia separated her hand from Legolas and stood as Pippin leapt up and promptly tackled her. As usual, his force did nothing to move her, not even a step back or sway. Elysia released a throaty chuckle as she held Pippin.

"I have missed you as well, fool of a Took." She remarked fondly. "You are crushing me, little bird."

The Took released her, but he still smiled as he hugged her legs. Merry ran to them and hugged her as well.

"Crush a dragon? Pippin?" He laughed as he looked up at her.

"Perhaps not." Elysia admitted. They finally released her and allowed the others to greet her as she neared the encampment. To her surprise, Aragorn and Boromir greeted her with an embrace. Boromir even lifted her and twirled the dragon. When he set her stiff form down, he chuckled.

"Now I can firmly say I lifted a dragon to Faramir!"

Elysia could only snort at that. "Stubborn steward." She muttered while Aragorn looked her over.

"You appear fine, but… how fairs…" He hesitated.

"Do not concern yourself, raggedy ranger." She responded gently before leaning and sniffing. "Oh, you had a bath."

The raggedy ranger chuckled at this and shook his head. Gimli simply patted her arm and nodded.

"Stubborn and sturdy like a mountain. Of course ye would survive after facing a demon, lass."

Sam greeted her next, but with more apprehension. His respect for Miss Elly deterred him from greeting her so wildly like Pippin had.

"I looked after your swords as you told me, Miss Elly."

Elysia smiled at this and bent down to kiss the hobbit's forehead. Sam flushed red while she whispered into his curly hair.

"I always know I can count on you, Samwise Gamgee…"

Her little one stared at her. He stood a few paces away, staring at her with such somberness that unsuited the great blue of his eyes. Elysia stared back, unsmiling but with the gentle gaze Frodo had seen since he was a child. Yet he still felt great doubt stir his heart, for he was still guilty and filled with dread. It was his fault she was like this. It was his fault Gandalf was lost to them. He was breaking his Elly. He did not deserve to be in her presence again. He did not deserve to be called her little one.

But then Elysia spoke.

"_**Little one… Can you forgive me for such actions?"**_She whispered in her ancient tongue.

The hobbit's bottom lip trembled and all resolution to distance himself failed. He ran and buried his face against her soft skirt.

"_**Can you ever forgive me?" **_He muffled in her skirt.

"_**There is nothing to forgive..."**_ She then forced him to gaze up at her. "Do not blame yourself for Mithrandir's fall… You should treat his sacrifice with honor, Frodo. To wallow in such guilt and shame is to treat his sacrifice with bane. Am I clear?"

Her voice was soft but fierce. Frodo nodded and then Elly smiled.

"Do not lose hope for the wizard, Frodo… He has never lost hope in you… Nor should you ever doubt my vow." She sensed the doubt in his heart. She knew him long enough to read Frodo like a book. So she smiled wide and patted his head.

"My father's sacrifice is not in vain…"

Silence struck them as lightning would strike a tree. Elysia almost laughed at Frodo's eyes bulging large and his mouth parting in his flabbergasted state.

Then Aragorn finally sighed.

"Of course… It's no wonder at times you speak in riddles."

000

Elysia sat with the great roots of a Mallorn tree as her bench. The fellowship gathered around her as she explained her full history, and Gandalf's involvement. They themselves began making the connections, seeing the resemblance of her nature with the old wizard's. When Elysia finished her tale, she wore a whimsical little smile and excused herself after retrieving her swords and placing them within the encampment. They mourned for her, for they saw the pain she tried to hide when she was reminded of Gandalf's end. Her revelation was bittersweet. Despite the calm she showed, they saw the great storm in her eyes as she attempted to calm it. They were gladdened by her strength, but none found the courage to near her as she sat near the edge and stared at the enchanting citadel of the Lothlórien elves; none except one.

Elysia stared at the nightly beauty of the strange city. It was as though they captured moonlight in their Mallorn kingdom. The very air, every step of the spiraling stairs, and the light was filled with a strange magic. It made her scales tingle.

He made his presence known with a small rustle, sitting near the woman after mildly admiring the way the pale light brought mesmerizing sheen to her wavy dark rivulets. Elysia did not greet or flicker her eyes to him, but she need not to. They simply stayed in silence, and Legolas was content to merely sit near her presence.

But then Elysia spoke.

"Deep in my heart, I always wondered who the being that was never worth mentioning was…. I deemed the wizard as the closest thing to a father I would ever have, only to discover… after he is gone… after all these centuries of being by his side and accompanying on many great adventures…. That I was with my sire all along…"

Legolas stared at a particular leaf falling slowly towards the floor of Lothlórien bellow.

"… Do you bear resentment?" He inquired softly.

Elysia's eyes narrowed and she bit her lip before responding. "… I wanted to… I prepared myself to feel some disdain or dismay against the man… But I cannot… To say I would, is to lie and you know I am not a very decent liar."

"Yes… One of the few things you are incapable of as a very capable being."

"… He has always been there… Always able to find me… Always guiding me despite all the trouble I put him through… But…" Legolas felt her great pain. His gaze softened when her eyes shone with tears. The crystalline drops threatened to spill from those silvered cerulean orbs, like rain from a sad storm. But, like her resilient heart, it resisted to escape those almond eyes.

"… It is alright to grieve Elysia… You need not hold back your tears." His voice was so gentle, Elysia found it hard to believe this was the same elf that shot her and fought with such ferocity when defending his father's kingdom.

The dragon turned to him, frowning almost stubbornly.

"Dragons do not cry… It is not in our nature to weep so easily." She responded tonelessly.

Yet, Legolas lifted a graceful hand and gently, with one long finger, he caressed her cheek with a calloused tip, capturing a tear just as it spilled from those fierce eyes. The droplet sparkled on his finger like a starlit jewel. He presented the liquid jewel with a tender gaze in those lightning blue eyes.

Elysia said nothing as she stared at the tear captured by his finger, as though she was surprised by her own tears. Then she felt another spill from her other side, tracing a wet shining line across her cheek.

Her lips parted as she captured the next tear with less grace than Legolas. Staring at her moist fingers, she frowned.

"I…." she was crying… After so many years of keeping tight restraint from letting a single drop of salty water fall from her face for any sentimental reason, she was _crying._ Elysia was shedding tears in front of someone; in front of the Greenleaf Prince.

The dragon appeared almost frustrated as she wiped away her tears with a sleeve of her soft silken white and silver dress.

"They are not _stopping_." She almost growled as she sniffed, feeling more infuriated by the sound of her sniff.

"Perhaps they are meant not to…" Legolas stated as he held the tear still upon his finger.

But Elysia was stubborn and wiped again, breathing deeply in and out to calm herself. Finally, they seemed to stop, but her eyes were rimmed with red. The dragon stared at her front, blinking a few times to rid herself of the stinging sensation in her eyes. Legolas remained silent. He settled his hand in his lower front and gazed at the shimmering droplet still balanced on his finger.

"…. Can you sing please?" She whispered her request after a long silence.

Legolas did not show any surprise at her sudden request, though he was startled. The elf smiled. Still staring at the liquid jewel on his finger, he began to sing a soft elvish ballad. Elysia closed her eyes and listened to the fair voice of the Prince of Mirkwood, elf of the fellowship, her friend.

000

The Lothlórien elves were like curious whimsical forest animals. Elysia found herself to be stared at more than once, and more than once has she found it a little unnerving. She refrained from flying in these woods, for it seemed discourteous to disturb the still homes with the wind of her quick flight. Taking advantage of the rare moment of piece, she pulled out a moderately sized leather book from her pack. Wandering through the ethereal woodlands, she spotted a place of artistic satisfaction. Galadriel was sitting with Celeborn, full lips moving as she smiled upon her lifelong companion. They were sipping tea and having a meal next to a pond full of white lilies.

The dragon tilted her head and gazed curiously at the two ancient but fair couples, focusing her mind towards a particular elf. Lady Galadriel glanced up from her drink and smiled knowingly. The silent communication between their minds was barely seen, but the dragon smiled and nodded her head in thanks before sitting near the roots of a tree. She pulled out her sketching stylus and opened the wide book to a blank page. The dragon was focused on her art; occasionally glancing up to capture the image once more while her stick moved quickly along the paper, forming an outline then little by little her drawing came to life. She sat there content to continue drawing when she sensed a presence near her.

Elysia turned her head and met eyes with the marchwarden. Haldir gave a simple gesture of greeting, bowing his head as he did so.

"Pardon my intrusion, Lady Elysia."

Elysia recognized him and raised a brow. "You're the elf from the lake…"

He nodded, but his mind formed the mental image of her first impression. Determined to keep his cool, the elf quelled his heated thoughts, although he did not stop himself from admiring the woman as she sat there. Her sleeves were left split at her shoulder, revealing a scar cutting across her upper arm at a slant. Its ropy surface made him ponder upon who would bear to mar a fair maiden as she, but it did give edge to her formidable demeanor; for she held beauty as did the she-elves of their fair race, but her beauty held a piercing edge with those keen eyes.

"Who has done this?" He whispered, tempted to reach and trace the scar, for she seemed like the character to stray from the touch of any stranger however fair. It was still tempting though, to touch the scar, feel her hair, and simply stare at her compelling presence.

Elysia turned back to her drawings, commenting in that modulated tenor. "I'd rather like to think of them as 'it' rather than a 'who', for they lost the privilege of bearing any significant form of identity… It is a scar from a Morgul blade. A black rider managed to cut me."

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "A Nazgúl?"

"My body does not bear scars so easily, but…" She grimaced a bit and glanced at her arm. "It is a reminder, I suppose." She then made an odd gesture with her shoulders and went back to her sketching.

"Thank you…" She spoke a little demurely. "For that time at the lake… Your timing was impeccable…"

"Haldir… I am Haldir of Lorien." He stated. "And it was no coincidence, for it was Lady Galadriel whom informed me of your location."

"I suppose this world has no coincidences." She mused mildly. "Well, are you content in just standing? Will you sit or will you go? Or will you continue standing?"

Haldir tilted his head. "Am I disturbing you?"

"You already 'disturbed' me, so it hardly matters." She stated calmly. "But from up there, you look as though you're admiring a painting or flower of some sort."

"And if I am?" He smirked. Elysia glanced at him and gave a soft snort before she continued sketching.

"Well then, I advise you to check your elven sight, Haldir of Lorien. I am no work of art, nor am I some colorful plant with petals. I am a dragon." Her response was light and nonchalant. Haldir released a small chuckle and after a moment, he sat next to the dragon.

"A dragon… In Lothlórien." He mused softly before his curiosity got the better of him. "What is it that you draw with so much focus?"

Elysia did not look up from drawing. "Memories… Images… People… things I think are worthy of being remembered and reminded of." She then glanced at him. Storm hued eyes flicked over his form before she began to draw again with more certainty.

"Are you drawing me?" He asked a little flattered.

"Yes." She stated as though it were a matter of fact. Then the dragon sighed, a little frustrated.

"If only there was a fairth." She muttered.

Haldir blinked. "A fairth?"

Elysia gazed at him more levelly. "It is a slate tablet layered with certain colors but plain on the surface. With magic and great focus, one can place an image in their mind and put it to the fairth… Hatchlings use it to practice focus. Some of the oldest and most skilled use it to draw their dreams onto something solid…."

She then began to draw once more, curling a hair behind her ear. After a moment of silence, she muttered.

"Either you are fantasizing my nudity or you are expecting me to poof into some scales creature."

She knew Haldir's elven ears heard her words. The elf jerked his head back, a little surprised by her sudden and a little disconcerting remark. The dragon appeared calm as usual as Haldir attempted to regain composure.

"What makes you say that, Lady Elysia?" he nearly stammered.

"You are staring… in fact, all the elves are staring. If one could beat another with a look, I would become a disfigured pulp by the sheer amount of intense staring in Lothlórien." She deadpanned.

Haldir chuckled at this. "Perhaps they merely wish to admire you?"

"I am not in my dragon form."

"I know. I was not referring to your dragon form." He then stood with a small bow. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Dragon. I hope we meet some time in the future."

Elysia glanced up at him and smirked lightheartedly. "Perhaps we will. I have a feeling we will."

"Then I hope it to be soon." Haldir said earnestly before he departed.

It was not long when he left that another figure came. Legolas witnessed the exchange between the two and found a green monster writhe within him at Haldir's boldness.

"You met him before?" He stated. He had heard of the implication in Elysia's statement. Haldir had seen her bare form? What went on between them? Were they intimate?

Legolas felt a grimace come to his face. This green monster was bigger than the last sensation of jealousy that came with Tauriel.

"Greetings to you as well, Greenleaf." She stated, looking up at him, she frowned. Legolas quickly masked his face with nonchalance and glanced at the book.

"What is it you write?"

"It is not writing, it is drawing. Legolas, is something bothering you?" She was always to the point and too sharp at times. Of course she would not miss the grimace.

The sound of his name upon her lips quelled the jealousy with waves of joy. Legolas gave her a genuine little smile and shook his head.

"It is nothing."

"And I am a dragon. I see past deception." She countered coolly. "So tell me, son of Thranduil. What troubles your elven mind?"

Legolas fought the urge to sigh. He hesitated, staring down at the pond of lilies adorning the floors of Lothlórien. In his silence, Elysia blinked and merely returned to her drawing.

"Do not speak if it ails you to do so. I shan't pry."

Panic welled up inside him. He did not want to push her away. Choosing the lesser of two, he responded as lightly as possible.

"I… was merely wondering… You have never spoken of Haldir before."

Elysia kept drawing. "That is because I only just met him when I entered Lothlórien."

"You were intimate with an elf you just _met_?" Legolas didn't mean to sound so curt, but he lost composure at this information. His mind raced. Was it natural for a dragon to be so… promiscuous with such intimate gestures? He had not expected this from his kinsmen, but perhaps Haldir was too tempted to deny seduction. Or perhaps he seduced her… The green monster roared within him.

But then he saw Elysia whip her head up and look at him with such incredulity.

"What?" She almost sputtered. "What gives you that _ludicrous _notion? Has these woods addled your brain?"

Legolas frowned. "But… He saw you bare…"

A fair brow cocked as her eyes sharpened.

"You were dropping eaves." She accused.

Legolas found no use in contradicting it, but neither did he admit to it. He did not need to.

Elysia snorted. "You think I would be so easily wooed to sleeping with any male I just met? You elves are indeed fair, but I am not enticed to the verge of promiscuity…. I do not see the joy in mating with one that has not captured my heart."

The green eyed monster was quelled by this, but still Legolas was curious.

"Then… What of-"

"My nudity?" She grimaced, mildly wondering why it bothered the elf so. "As you recall, I did tear out of my clothes… It was inevitable I'd be threadbare when I changed back…. I had crashed into the lake. The marchwarden and his squad found me." Her ears reddened and she grimaced. "A rather uncouth first impression, but it was inevitable. I was surprised he would come to greet me after that…"

Legolas frowned. "We elves are not incapable of feeling lust."

The dragon chuckled and smirked mirthfully at her elven comrade. "Why Legolas, are you concerned for the safety of my feminine sentiments?" She turned back to her drawings, frowning when her hair began to veil her face again.

"Bah." She grabbed her hair and began to gather it with the intent of braiding. "I should cut it all off."

Legolas frowned at the thought of a single wavy raven lock being cut, even a mere ringlet.

"Please do not. It's lovely."

Elysia glanced at him as she began to braid her hair lazily. Legolas appeared sincere.

"You know a village in Rohan thought me to be a witch because of my hair." She mused. "It was too dark for the blond folk." Her small whimsical smile faltered when she remembered something. Legolas worried at her sudden change.

"Elysia...?"

Elysia blinked a few times before she began to braid again. "I just remembered something… Fili and Kili asked me for a lock of my hair one day…. It was the strangest thing of them to do."

"And did you?" He asked, empathizing with the dwarves. When Elysia nodded, a twinge of envy jabbed him. Perhaps in time he could ask without it seeming to strange.

"They were very shy about it… But I didn't see the harm in compelling when they appeared earnest so I braided two small strands and gave it to them. Kili kept his, made it into some kind of bracelet… But Fili…." She smirked softly.

"I thought Fili simply kept his somewhere safe, but one day I noticed Thorin sitting in a corner one night… He was holding a dark strand of some sorts, but the King under the mountain hastily hid it when I approached… I never pried because Oakenshield was always so frustratingly stubborn and broody so I thought nothing of it."

Now she realized Fili had given Thorin the strand, for Thorin's affections for her were stronger than any of the company, but he kept it concealed well.

"He was in love with you." Legolas stated. He was uncertain of how to feel about this. Thorin Oakenshield was dead, but if he was alive, the elf would feel a little bitter at competing for her affections with a _dwarf_.

"Apparently he was… Or perhaps it would have grown to be love if he survived." She mused. "Bilbo informed me at Rivendell… I always thought that dwarf hated me."

The subject made her forlorn, so Legolas quickly changed it with fluidity.

"May I see your drawings?"

Elysia debated for a moment, but gave the elf a nod, handing her the leather bounded papers. He opened the book and carefully perused through each page with a careful hand. Her drawings were like pictures, detailed and beautiful. He saw great mountains, vast landscapes, a bird on a branch, the Shire and its inhabitants… There were a few pages that were of less cheer. He saw the ring and its glyphs, the darkened tower of Orthanc in Isengard, a Nazgúl on its black steed with a few close up sketches of its appearance… The drawings soon began to tell a story, for he saw Rivendell, a few images of Arwen he knew Aragorn would long to keep or to stare upon for ages, Frodo and his hobbit friends, Gandalf with his pipe, and a few incomplete sketches of Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, and himself—a fact that made him happy, for he noticed he had a few extra pages than Haldir, who only had one—and Lothlórien, even a lovely picture of Galadriel; there were several of the fair Lady of Light, even one with her and Lord Celeborn dining next to the pond of lilies.

"Your skills are very fair, Elysia." He praised earnestly. Elysia gave him a small smile.

"You elves and your flattery."

"T'is the truth, Elysia."

She did not know what came over her, but her breath caught when he gazed up from his perusal. His eyes bore into hers, reminding her of a cloudless flight across an ocean. When the elf smiled, she felt as though someone grasped her heart with a gentle grip.

"I believe Gimli would be in your debt if you bequeathed him a sketch of Lady Galadriel. He is quite taken by her."

Amusement sparked in Elysia's eyes. She smirked wryly. "Is that why has the dwarf in a daze? He stares off as though he were drowning in some dream as of late."

Legolas nodded and joined in her small laughter, handing her the book. Elysia closed it gently and stood.

"Come, Legolas, let us see if the dwarf is still struck by the hammer of beauty."

The elf rose, standing taller than her as he did so. He smiled down upon her and gestured mirthfully.

"After you, milady."

Elysia had literally torn a page of Galadriel from her sketchbook and handed it to the dwarf. The dwarf could not hide the ecstatic gleam in his eyes and held the piece of parchment as though it were the most fragile and beautiful thing.

"Thank you lass." He whispered as he stared at the detailed sketch. "By Durin's beard… You possess an abundance of skills, Lady Drake."

Elysia smiled and gave Pippin a nod of thanks when he handed her a slice of bread covered with jam. Holding it with her mouth she walked up to Aragorn sitting and tending to his sword under the great roots of the Mallorn tree they had set up the tent with.

The dragon sat next to the ranger and munched on her bread. Without sparing him a single glance, she held up a sheet of her sketching parchment. The ranger paused in his ministrations to his sword and gazed at the paper. After a moment, he carefully grasped the edge and Elysia released her grip, leaving him to hold the drawing.

"It is yours to keep or discard, raggedy ranger…." She stated.

The ranger gazed at the image, drinking in the sight of his beloved's face. There were several drawings around the main image of Arwen sitting gracefully on a chair; a close up of her face, a picture of her standing and staring through a window, a picture of her smile… The images were black and white, but his heart and mind added the color. The flush of her full lips, the creamy pale tone of her cheeks, the blue of her eyes, and the dark hue of her hair.

"She obliged to be my model for a day…" Elysia admitted. "Lady Arwen was too fair not to draw, so I asked."

"…. Thank you." He whispered softly, unable to fully express his gratitude, the ranger buried her in a one arm embrace, his eyes never leaving the paper.

"It is only an image, raggedy ranger…. Thank Legolas, for he asked it of me." She gave him a quick pat and pushed him away. "Did you bathe?"

Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "What is it with you and cleanliness?"

"When you have the nose of a dragon, perhaps you would comprehend my suffering when I am near a raggedy ranger who has yet to bathe after three weeks of hard travel." She then pondered for a moment before scowling to herself. "Then again, you smell better than the riders of Rohan… I half mistook them for horses by their mere scent."

Aragorn laughed at this and Elysia merely chuckled. It was good to hear the ranger laugh after a long and wearily sorrowful recent events.

Her little one was awake. She could hear him rise from his bed; hear his feet touch the floors. If she weren't so attuned to the sound of her hobbits, she would not have noticed with their unlikely stealth. Elysia was tempted to follow Frodo, for he appeared troubled as of late. The Ring was getting to him, she could taste it in the air, feel its power growing with an air of desperation, attempting to drag itself back to its master. It was sucking the life from the little one. She could see it in his eyes, and she despaired for him. There would come a point and time when one drags a weight for so long, it will cripple them.

"_Be still, Lady Drake…."_ Galadriel's gentle voice echoed in her mind. Elysia stiffened but then relaxed. If Frodo desired to speak to the Lady and obtain some wisdom for his quest, that was his choice. The moment he took the burden as the Ring bearer, Elysia knew he could no longer be coddled.

000

White robes caressed the black floors of Orthanc. Dark, dim, and dreary were the chambers of the black tower of Isengard, striking the contrast of the White Wizard. But despite his brighter hue, Saruman's air lacked radiance. His very presence was like ice in the dark chambers. His lips curled in malicious glee as he walked deeper down his black fortress, deep into the dungeons where Orthanc's clear cut black began to transition into a dreary earthen brown and gray. A loud guttural cry echoed through the dark, followed by agonized squeals before they were cut short.

He entered the great cavern to capture the sight of an orc being peppered with blackened spikes. The white wizard stared coldly, unamused.

"I'd rather you take your frustrations out on something of less use." The wizard drawled.

A loud hiss echoed the dungeon, chains rattled and beady yellow eyes gleamed.

"_**They are expendable…"**_

Saruman smirked and neared the deadly asset soon to be added to Lurtz's scouting horde.

"Perhaps it is time to make us of you… I have a task of the utmost importance…" His dark eyes grazed the great form of the creature. It straightened at his words and began to unfurl its frayed leathery wings. The wings were too punctured and torn with holes and rips to be of any significant use for flight, but that did little to deter the creature's wrath. The fact that it was downed made the creature rabid.

"_**Speak… And it shall be done."**_

"There's rumor flying about that a being of great power accompanies them… I believe it might be one of _yours_." Saruman did not flinch when the being lashed out with venom dripped fangs. A frill of spikes began to shiver as it twitched its tail.

"_**You wish for me to kill?"**_ It asked excitedly. Saruman sneered and shook his head.

"No, you flightless wyrm. If the rumors are true, I want them captured… Kill the others, but I want the Halflings and the person _alive_, preferably not crippled." Saruman stepped forth, glaring into those poisonous yellow eyes.

"Can I trust you to do it, Vyrfel?"

Vyrfel flashed its gleaming moist fangs. Yellow tipped spikes decorated his mane and spine, blackening as it went along to the cover his tail in sharp barbs. His long reptilian frame was pebbled with thin scales, yellow and flame red speckled with black. His tattered winged appendages had two sharp hooks for fingers, while his lanky hide legs were donned with one great talon dwarfing the rest on his right foot, for his left there was only a stub of the deadly hook. He opened his maws, splitting his great triangular head in two, and released a hiss, causing his fangs and frill to jut out to share his glee. Vyrfel was a woebegone form of what he used to be, but the quilled drake was blind to his disgraced. A hollow shell remained of his spirit, for he was now only a puppet of the white hand's reign. Not a single sliver of pride remained in those savage yellow eyes, only pure madness like the mindless collared beast he was. A wingless cur that bears the white wizard's will, marked like an object with the white hand of Saruman on its hind leg.

_**"Your will shall be done, Lord Saruman."**_ Vyrfel hissed and cracked his long quilled tail like a whip. The spines snapped up like a thousand raised swords.

"You shall follow Lurtz. Try not to kill your horde." With that being said, Saruman lifted his dark staff and tapped the thick iron collar of the venomous wyrm. A clank echoed the dungeons as it fell to the floor. Vyrfel released a howling shriek before crashing through the caves wildly, seeking the closest exit.

"_**Taste their fleeesh."**_

His destructive enthusiasm left many orcs smeared against the halls. The White Wizard only appeared satified by this savagery and left the working orcs to continue their dirty work.

* * *

Read and Review.


	12. Chapter 12

Authors Note: Salutations blessed readers! I've been thoroughly going over reviews and they've made me think very hard, grin like a fool, and warm my heart with encouragement so thank you very much.

I would also like to just speak my mind and enlighten you. I refuse to call out names, because I am worried it may seem ill-mannered. However, I am adamant to voice out my thought stimulated by the reviews. By no means am I being snide or bitter in any manner ;).

As for the genre of this story, I put in romance because romance will be involved between Elysia and Legolas. BUT it will be a bit slow, and I am not going to have my story focus solely upon the romantic relationship. This is also an adventure of epic proportions. Love is in various forms, and all forms are important in this story: friendship, family, and significant other, and by no means is one meant to demean the other or be of lesser importance. Elysia's life and journey will not revolve around Legolas. The Son of Thranduil _is_ involved with her growth, that does not mean he is the sole reason for it. Their bond is important.

So if the romance discontents you, I apologize. I do not feel as though the romance will make Elysia's bond with any of her other beloved companions small. I chose Legolas as her love interest because they contrast each other but in a roughly harmonious way. I thought it would be an interesting pairing, one I was too tempted to write than resist.

Thank you again with utmost sincerity for reading and adding input!

Sincerely E.L Wright.

* * *

Chapter 12

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." Celeborn stated as the elves took a stand back. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

The leaf of Lorien clasped the long elven cloak to Elysia's slender frame. It felt soft and light, yet unnaturally durable, scented with an air of elven magic. Everything about elvish ware was uncanny, for it was light, soft, yet durable. Galadriel gifted Elysia with an entire set of travel clothes, having torn her previous ones beyond the point of mending. It was akin to Legolas's own travelling garb, but compared to the green of his clothing, it was much grayer in the likeness of the Lothlórien elves. A plain gray loose half sleeved tunic covered the form fitting midnight hued long sleeved attire underneath. It draped over down to her mid thighs, held by a dark leather belt wrapped around her hips. With the addition of the cloak, Elysia moved Faersing's scabbard to the left of the belt's wide girth rather than strapping it on the back. The new position would make little difference in quickening or slowing Faersing's summoning from the scabbard.

It donned on Elysia that some form of magic within Faersing allowed the sword to be drawn almost too easily from her back, a curious place that she never thought twice about for Faersing had always been easy to draw at any angle. Rhunon once implied it when the great craftsdrake created the blue scabbard, but Elysia never thought of it until Aragorn inquired curiously, stating when she drew Faersing from her back, he thought the sword "was bending like a flimsy stick or the scabbard was not there" but she always yanked it out so fast that it appeared to be the trick of the eye. She would have to thank Rhunon upon her return, perhaps introduce her to some dwarves for her forging skills were unrivalled by any other kinsmen.

She secured her dagger and throwing blades once more before spotting Lord Celeborn pointedly glance at her. Curious at his silent summoning, she adjusted her rucksack and followed the king, secretly marveling at the soft and flexible texture of her fitted black trousers.

Aragorn was with Lord Celeborn, appearing grim. When the dragon came to them, the three began to walk as Celeborn told them of what his scouts spotted in their borders. He told them of the strange creatures bearing the mark of the white hand, able to move in daylight with great endurance. Elysia frowned.

"Gandalf has said Saruman was breeding a new class of foul creatures. I did not think the wizard would do so this quickly."

Celeborn and Aragorn grimaced, troubled by this. "There is more." Celeborn continued. "These creatures are accompanied by something even fouler. It appears to be your kin, but it moves mindlessly as though it were nothing but a rabid hound with a trail…"

Elysia held back a hiss as a flash of rage flickered through her eyes.

"A dragon?"

"I know not." Celeborn admitted. "For the foul creature appeared mutilated in both mind and body. If it was a drake, now it is nothing but a shell of your kind."

He then offered Aragorn a dagger and whispered to them both. "You are being tracked."

Elysia seemed quite disturbed by this. Aragorn gave her a pat and left to aid Legolas in gathering the supplies for their boat trip through the river, leaving the dragon with Lord Celeborn. Elysia's troubled expression transitioned into one of apprehension. She curled a hair behind her ear and bit her hip lip before turning to the now curious king.

"I…" She hesitated, then sighed and shuffled through her rucksack quickly, pulling out what appeared to be a wooden frame. Celeborn accepted the frame with mild amusement while Elysia shifted her thick braid to one side and ducked her head in a curt polite nod.

"It seemed discourteous of me to not give something in return for the services you and your wife provided me, Lord Celeborn." Toneless yet oddly sincere was her voice.

Celeborn stared at the sketch of him and his fair wife, sitting and dining near the lily pond. They had gone to the place for a relaxing evening together, and the peace was well enjoyable as was the memory. The sketch's detail was immaculate, even the shadows of the lilies were impeccably formed.

"Lady Galadriel gave me consent to draw this… Forgive me if it displeases you-" Elysia began to rush out an apology, but Lord Celeborn cut her off.

"Thank you, Lady Elysia." He would indeed cherish this and bring it with him when he and his love sailed west. "I should like to keep this pristine memory."

Humbled by the ancient king's high praise, Elysia gave him a small elven bow and departed.

000

Galadriel parted them with the honor of being given gifts, directly from the fair elven maiden. When the Lady of Light came upon Elysia, she tilted her head..

"We do not know what a dragon such as yourself would desire from the Lothlórien elves." Galadriel admitted.

"The elves have gifted me with more than I shall ever ask for, milady." Elysia stated earnestly. Their hospitality and their generosity to provide her with an entire new set of clothes were enough, for the dragon desired no material treasures for herself. Galadriel saw this and her soft smile widened.

"Then allow me to gift you with this…" She pulled out a flat rectangular palm sized piece of radiant silver metal from her sleeve. The dragon curiously accepted the metal, discovering it was a foldable frame. Upon opening the silver clasp like a book, her eyes widened at the pale slate texture of the surface.

Galadriel's voice echoed in her mind. _"I have been enlightened upon the structure of the _fairths_ of your kin… Though this is no fairth, it possess qualities akin to the fairth's nature should you focus your magic… For the child of an Istari, your efforts should suffice."_

"Thank you…" Elysia whispered, unable to express the full magnitude of her thanks, but Galadriel saw her heart and a knowing smile grew.

000

Legolas watched as Elysia carefully sniffed the bundle of Lembas bread, smiling softly when she tilted her head and stared quizzically at the bundle.

"Lembas bread." He stated.

"I have heard of it…" She replied as she set down the bread with a wondrous air. "Curious thing, it is. I have never tasted the thing myself, but the qualities it possesses are remarkable. I daresay I might be full at five or six."

The Prince of Mirkwood cocked a brow at this. _Five_ or _six_? One small bite could fill a grown man's stomach and she could eat five or six? Elysia caught his gaze and smirked widely.

"As Pippin would say, it's a dragon thing. I need not eat very often, but when I have the time, I can indulge quite a bit." She hopped onto the boat after this and Legolas silently admired her. The gray Lothlórien garb did not flatter her form as it hung loosely on her frame, but the prince thought that the dragon did not need any flattery for she was fair already. The sufficiency and quality of attire always outweighed any desire, if she had any, for feminine appeal. Plain and simple, but it made her no less beautiful to Legolas.

Elysia sat with Gimli and Legolas, content to let the elf do the rowing as she stared at the small currents of the water. The stubborn steward was with the devious pair of hobbits. Her little one was with Sam and the raggedy ranger. The dwarf still held a dreamy look upon his face as he sat between the elf and the dragon.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me" He grumbled and Elysia glanced curiously at the dwarf, as did Legolas.

"What was her gift?" Legolas asked as he rowed smoothly with the grace and strength of his kind.

Gimli appeared to be dazed. "I asked her for one hair from her golden head…. She gave me three."

Legolas's gentle smile widened at this, and the dragon tilted her head. Her lips twitched with a small knowing smirk, for Mithrandir has told her of Galadriel's history.

The smile and the smirk faded with the lightheartedness as they continued to row to the main river. Something stirred in the forest, causing the dragon to stiffen and narrow her stormy eyes at the woods. Celeborn warned them they were being tracked, but this was far too close than Elysia anticipated.

"Through the trees… Elysia, you sense it." Legolas also began to glare suspiciously into the woods.

Elysia grimaced and touched her temples. Horns began to emerge and with her new hearing aid, she took a deep sniff of the air and closed her eyes.

Gimli and Legolas watched in silent fascination. The pale pearly sheened horns seemed to twitch with her ears as Elysia focused her earing. After a few moments of silent rowing, Elysia retracted her horns and glared sharper into the woods.

"They are running… I cannot determine how many but I can say with certainty that there are more than two dozen, but even in the daylight, their pace is tireless and _fast_."

Elysia gripped the edge of the elven rowboat, her knuckles turning white. "They certainly brought something with them… And it's hardly making an effort in stealth." Its footsteps were wider and harder, and she could hear the great rumbles of small trees being uprooted in its wrathful path.

They continued their fast pace down the river, resting only once late in the night. Elysia kept close watch of everything around and in the fellowship, for she sensed the Ring's essence tainting a particular man. She captured the two arguing, Boromir's urging turning into a demand for Aragorn to lead them to Minas Tirith so Gondor can help them with troops to tackle Mordor. The idea sounded stupid and exceedingly dangerous, for Elysia and Aragorn knew the follies of men.

When Aragorn rejected Boromir's opinion, the steward lashed out, grabbing the ranger's sleeve.

"You are afraid!" He accused. "All your life you have hidden in the shadows! Scared of who you are, of what you are!"

Something metallic whistled between them and imbedded itself into the stump of deadwood near Boromir. They turned to see the dragon maiden glare with her usual stoic severity.

"Quiet. You'll wake the others." She remarked monotonously, striding past them, forcing Boromir to split from Aragorn, and yanked her throwing blade from its place buried in the deadwood.

"Do you consent to his cowardice?" Boromir demanded. If the dragon supported him, surely Aragorn's decision could be outvoted.

Aragorn did not need to feel apprehensive for Elysia gazed at Boromir levelly.

"Heed the Dunedain's words, steward of Gondor. It would not be wise to bring such poisonous evil near the race of Men."

Boromir spat. "What would you know or care, dragon? You do not have any loyalties to the people of Middle Earth. You come for the sake of the Halflings if anything! It does not matter to you if the fate of my people are in-"

The dragon then moved swiftly, like a coiled viper out to strike. She was inches from the steward's face when she spoke in a dangerous hiss.

"Must I remind you, _steward_, that I lived long before your _line_ of wardens even began? I have seen the follies of your mortal kind and am quite aware of the _pathetic_ history of mankind's failures. The arrogance and lust for power rivals has the capacity to rival the madness of Smaug." Before Boromir could utter a word of defense, Elysia continued with great ice and fire in every word.

"I bear no resentment for your kind, Boromir, for I am also aware that with your flaws, men bear great courage and honor, able to endure the greatest of toils and triumph… But I am not blind and nor is Aragorn."

She then raised the sharp tip of her throwing blade like a finger near Boromir's chin.

"The fate of my own people is also bound by the fate of the Ring. I will not have that fate solely relied upon the race of _Men_." With that being said she lowered her knife and whisked off, leaving the steward and the ranger to stare at her agitated retreat.

Aragorn glared at Boromir. "Do not offend her, Boromir. She has seen more horrors than any of us, and her words are not to be brushed aside."

"You defend her because she sides with you." Boromir sneered.

The ranger darkened. "I defend her because she is my friend, and I would not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." The ranger left the steward seething in his own conflicted mind.

000

When they rowed through the river once more, Elysia stared at the massive statues; the Argonath, two kings towering over the river, their palms out as if to ward any evil from passing through. Elysia wondered what it would be like from an eagle eye view, and found herself longing to fly through this great valley. Her wonder did not last long, for she sensed a great shadow lurking in near the shores to the west, festering like rot on an open wound.

They stopped at the very shores, making Elysia wrought with tension. She sniffed the air and grimaced. Legolas did not ignore her discomfort nor could he shake of the shadow looming in his mind. The two sharpest of the fellowship remained wary while they set up camp. Legolas went to warn Aragorn while Elysia began to gather wood with Merry, Frodo, and Boromir. She was there more as a guard and a scout, staring into the thick woods like a wildcat on the prowl. She distanced herself from their gathering, aiming to scour more ground around the perimeter.

She rested her hand upon Silvindr, tucking Faersing more firmly to her lower back rather than letting it dangle upon her hip. She would quickly slide it to her side if the time called for it. For now, she focused on making as little noise as possible as she scouted the forest.

Closing her eyes, she called the wind to her aid. It obeyed the dragon of the storm, and wove through the trees to caress her cheek and hair. But the gentle caress brought no content, for Elysia's nose caught the scent she bore great dread. The dragon jerked back as though she were stung, eyes snapping open to glare at the deep forest.

They were coming. The fellowship had no choice but to sail to the eastern shores, for they were coming in a horde with a poisonous presence to them fouler than the usual orc.

She turned, digging her feet into the ground to spring to a fast run, but her ears caught a yell followed by that dark whisper she knew to involve with the sinister powers of the Ring.

"YOU WILL BETRAY US ALL!" It was Boromir. He sounded like a madman. Elysia cursed, realizing Boromir was with Frodo in gathering wood. His mind must have fallen to the madness.

Changing her direction, she ran towards the sound of Boromir's rage, dreading in her heart what had become of Frodo. If the steward had tried to take the Ring, or hurt her little one, she was not going to hesitate this time in cutting him. She caught Boromir's scent before her eyes found the steward. He was alone. Frodo was nowhere to be found.

The steward was too deep in the Ring's madness that he did not see the dragon. But he felt her, for she tackled him and with savage strength, she tossed him down and slammed her foot on his chest. At the very moment when the eyes of a raging dark storm stared at him, Boromir's madness left him like a flame drenched in water. The pupils in those grayed pools thinned into slits and a deep snarl escaped the woman's mouth as she interrogated with her commanding voice.

"What have you DONE?!" Her thick braid's tip nearly touched his face as she leaned down to glare mutinously at the steward.

Fear and despair overwhelmed Boromir as he faced her wrath and realized what he had just done. Shamed, he very nearly whimpered.

"Frodo… Frodo…?" He looked around, unable to rise with the dragon's foot still pinning him to the ground. Frodo was nowhere in sight.

"Please…" He was frantic. "I'm so sorry… I-"

Elysia's face became masked with emotionless ice as she lifted her face and her foot from the steward.

"Get back to camp." She spat in a low foreboding voice. The remorse and utter shame in Boromir's muddled face told her enough. She did not need to strike him down in her wrath when his honor was already being peeled away by his distress in his sudden loss of self.

The dragon left the steward to weep as she ran into the woods, searching for Frodo. This time she followed the darkness whispering in her mind like a bloodhound on a trail. Once it faded, she began to search wildly with her nose and eyes. But then the strong foul stench of the horde and the clang of metals captured her senses. Elysia stopped, her booted feet skidding in the leaf strewn dirt. She nearly missed Frodo scampering by in her frantic awareness. The dragon grabbed him and snatched him up in an embrace.

Frodo screamed and struggled, a first in their contact. Elysia released him as if she were stung, staring at the hobbit and putting as much distance. Did she hurt him? No. But why did he scream? Did he think she was going to hurt him?

Frodo looked wildly fearful, but when he saw who had grabbed him his eyes saddened.

"Elly…" He despaired, dreading her reaction to him. Would she fall into the madness too?

But Elysia did not seem to even stare anywhere near his neck or his palm or graze his small figure in search of the object. She merely knelt and stared at his eyes and his face.

"Frodo, what happened? Are you hurt? Are you-"

"Elly, I must go." Frodo's voice wavered with despair. Out of all the fellowship, departing with Sam and his dear Elly would hurt him the most. He had dreaded encountering them.

Elysia fell silent and stared at him almost blankly. Frodo bit his lip, mustering up his will to force the words that tasted bitter.

"Alone… You can't come… Not this time…" He knew it would kill her. He did not doubt she would go loyally with him all the way to Mount Doom, but the darkness would kill her.

She knew this. Elysia's unfathomable face softened. Her eyes became ancient.

"I know…" She stated almost too calmly. "I know…" Upon Frodo's sadly puzzled gaze, she smiled softly.

"Frodo… This burden has always been yours and yours alone… It pains me to admit it so, but I cannot deny the truth." Her eyes glistened, making Frodo's bottom lip tremble. He had never seen his Elly ever shed a tear. The dragon pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I knew and feared this moment's coming." She whispered into his ear as her tears fell. "That our paths would soon diverge… But I will uphold my vow and help see an end to this darkness… In anyway I can… Wiol ono, little one. (For you)"

"I don't want to leave you, Elly." Frodo muffled into her shoulder as he shut his eyes. Tears poured down his face as he inhaled the scent of the warm musk that he always connected with home.

Elysia pushed him back to stare at him. Frodo was shocked to find her tears mirroring his. This was the first time he has ever seen Elysia cry.

Her voice did not waver. "You can and you must..." She cupped his face and held him close, touching her forehead with his.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, un atra ono waíse sköliro frá rauthr, Frodo Baggins."

_***May the stars watch over you, and may you be shielded from misfortune, Frodo Baggins.**_

Frodo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before whispering.

"Goodbye Elysia."

The dragon stood up and stared down at Frodo. All traces of her grief wiped from her face. She looked fierce and foreboding.

"Go, and do not look back." She commanded sharply, stifling the crack threatening to come in her voice. Elysia wanted to grab him, she wanted to grab him and hold him close, scream at him of the ridiculousness of his choice, but she did not. She couldn't. Whether it was because she was a coward or loyal friend she did not know.

Frodo did as he was told, tearing his eyes away from his dear friend. His thick soles dug into the ground as he pushed himself forward. Every step took him further away from the dragon who nurtured him in the Shire, told him stories, scolded him, made him laugh, protected him. She was the one being who stayed through all his hardships since he was a child, her and Sam. Leaving them would tear his heart, but he had to do this. He had to do this for the Shire, for Elysia's broken people, for Middle Earth.

Elysia stood there in silence for a few heartbeats. She did not dare look at Frodo leave, for it would cave her will to let him go alone. Biting her lip, the dragon swallowed with difficulty and hardened spirit to tackle the task at hand. Drawing Silvindr from its scabbard, she readied herself. She must aid Aragorn…

"Mister FRODO!"

…After she put Sam somewhere safe.

The dragon fought the urge to sigh and immediately ran towards the frantic hobbit. His yells would draw the Uruks to him. It did not take her long, following the scent and voice. She spotted Sam as he found her, and the hefty hobbit bolted towards the dragon.

"Miss Elly! Frodo is-"

"He is gone." Elysia stated bluntly. "Frodo has left to complete the task alone."

Her frank news stunned Sam momentarily. But then his eyes blazed in outrage. "By himself!?" demanded the hobbit.

"That is what alone means." She responded coolly.

"And you let him?!" Sam yelled, his shock and anger making him bold against the dragon.

Elysia did not have time for this. "Go and hide, Samwise Gamgee."

Sam's courage was not quelled by her commanding voice. "How could you leave him like that! How could you say that you abandoned him so quickly!"

His courage quelled a bit by the sudden danger in Elysia's aura. She glared down at the hobbit and Silvindr gleamed menacingly.

"Did you think I did so with ease, Samwise Gamgee? You dare have the audacity to assume I abandoned him so crassly?"

"I-"

"Silence your tongue, Halfling." She hissed, and her eyes turned savage. Sam flinched. "I did not abandon him, for I cannot. I must uphold the vows I made…" Her wrath diminished as she stared with sad age down at Sam.

"But I cannot accompany Frodo to Mordor and help him bear this burden… Sam, the mere presence of the Ring so close to me as the evil grows will destroy me… By the time I am at Mordor with Frodo…" Her voice turned grave. "You will have nothing but a shell of the Elly you knew."

Sam stared long and hard at Elysia. His fists clenched and he mustered every ounce of courage to stand bravely before the dragon. "Then I'll do it for you! I'll go with Mr. Frodo!"

"Sam…" but Samwise wouldn't hear it.

"I made a promise too! I made a promise to Gandalf! 'don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee.'" He scowled with such resilience, Elysia was startled.

The dragon said nothing as she stared long and hard at him, assessing him with those old and powerful eyes. Her face was indecipherable, but then the dragon leaned down, her free hand shuffling through the opening of her collar. It pulled out something of blue radiance. With a jerk of her wrist, she released the sapphire hued item. A woven chain of silver formed and dangled the object in front of Sam. He stared at the radiant item before him. It appeared to be shaped like a scale with a surface of jewel-like vivacity. Mesmerized, he reached and Elysia allowed it to fall into his grasp. It was small, surrounded by his palm. A strange warm spark pulsed through at the contact. The chain of silver felt strangely soft and light against his hands.

"This is my scale." Elysia stated. "Do not offer it up to anyone or reveal it willingly… Not even to Frodo."

Sam looked up at her, surprised. "Miss Elly-"

"Keep it with you, and let it be a constant reminder of your responsibility and give you strength to endure the hardships you shall face… To be given this is the highest honor and symbol of a pact a dragon provides… You are to take my place by Frodo's side… I expect it back." Scales were precious symbols of trust when offered willingly. It was rarely ever done by her kin amongst each other, and she was bestowing a hobbit with this honor. She trusted the hobbit to return, fulfilling his task, with her scale.

The hobbit quickly recovered from his shock, realizing now was not the time to stare agape at the dragon. He held the scale firmly in his grasp as he stood straighter.

Elysia glared at him hard.

"I will wait for you to return my scale, Samwise Gamgee…. May the stars watch over you."

"Miss Elly-" He wanted to thank her, to say he won't ever let her down. But the dragon turned, facing the sound of the battle.

"GO! Look after the little one for me!" She looked back at him, urging him to go with her eyes. "Go before he leaves the shore!"

Sam did not hesitate now. Scale tightly in hand; he began to run down the hill towards the shore.

Elysia listened to his departure and smiled to herself as she rotated her falchion in her grasp.

"Thank you, Sam." she whispered. "I know I can count on you."

She then sprung forward and ran towards the sound of the metals clashing together. Elysia need not run far. A tall savagely burly looking orc bearing the white hand across his helmet lunged at her. The dragon side stepped coldly, dodging the lunge and hacked the Uruk's back with a single arm. She spotted Aragorn coming into the distance with dozens of Uruks charging at him wildly. The dragon reached for Faersing, glowing excitedly at her other hip.

Now was the fine moment to be "flashy".

Aragorn caught the familiar blue gleam at his peripheral and turned to see Faersing being thrown like a spear, skewering the head of three Uruks. Elysia came like a furious storm, spinning and hacking her way through the oncoming Uruks with Silvindr before yanking her longsword from its gruesome position.

"Where are Pippin and Merry?" She asked as she parried a jagged saber and separated an atrocious head from an equally ugly body.

"I don't know. Did you see Frodo?" He asked as he punched one and stabbed the other.

"I sent him to the shore." She stated, assessing the ranger's reaction. Aragorn simply gave a curt nod and disarmed his current foe before impaling his blade into the head.

An Uruk raised its crooked blade to stab at Elysia's back as she fended herself from two at her front. An arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into its head just as the dragon turned. Legolas, looking satisfied with his mark, and a charging Gimli who bashed an Uruk with his axe soon joined them. The four began to plow their way through the abominations with quick brutality.

Elysia was in the middle of slicing a throat and lopping off an arm when they heard the low echoing sound of a horn.

"The horn of Gondor." Legolas frowned. Elysia finished off her kills with a scowl.

"Boromir." She hissed and they began to head towards the noise.

...

Lurtz did not need to yank on the chain to pull the fiend any further. The twitchy quilled wyrm was already impatient, smelling the death in the air. It wanted to join in on the fun.

But Lurtz did not trust the violent brute to control its lust and keep the Halflings alive. No… He would tend to the Halflings himself. As for the other individual their master demanded capture of, it seems as though Vyrfel knew who it was. The commanding Uruk-hai turned and rattled the chain of their venomous trump card, demanding attention. The flightless spiked wyrm whipped its frilled head and glared at the Uruk-hai with malicious impatience.

"Leave the Halflings to me." Lurtz bared his teeth and released the venomous quilled drake.

Vyrfel unleashed a howling cry and darted off into the forest. Lurtz gave a guttural snort and focused his bloodthirsty eyes upon the sack of manflesh fighting down the hill. He raised his great black war bow and pulled forth a dark, jagged tipped arrow.

Elysia suddenly froze, causing Gimli to bump into her solid and deathly still form. The dwarf grunted at her sudden stop, and the elf and man of their group turned sharply. Legolas frowned at the shell-shocked look on Elysia's face.

"Elysia?" He rushed to her and reached for her shoulder or face. But the dragon suddenly hissed and glared at their front.

"All of you _run_ NOW!" She cried as she brandished her swords. A crash and rip of a tree rumbled near the forest, followed by a howling cry. It was then when it appeared, crashing through the trees and erupting into view like a sand viper striking from its hidden spot within the dune.

Aragorn and Gimli fell back as they barely managed to dodge a tree thrown at their way. Elysia and Legolas were more graceful. The elf managed to leap and flip over the tree while Elysia ran and slid under. She rolled on the ground and heaved her falchion forward with a determined glint in her eyes.

The blade met its mark, stabbing into the narrow shoulder of the beast before her. It erupted in a guttural howl, hissing and baring its jagged fangs and frill of spikes at her.

"What in Durin's beard is THAT?" Gimli cried as he raised his axe.

Legolas and Aragorn did not have the answer, and stared with equal shock at the massive reptilian creature before them. Its triangular head was crowned with a mane of sharp yellow spikes that trailed and darkened along its spine and down to its tail where it ended in black deadly barbs covering every inch of the long appendage. The leathery wings attached to its arms were tattered beyond flight ability, and a great hooked talon adorned the right hawk-like hind leg. The other hook seemed to be missing, but none of them desired for the monster to have additional arsenal. It salivated rabidly with thick translucent yellow liquid, matching the yellowed tone of its beady maddened eyes. Scars and missing patches of its yellow red and speckled black scales covered the lanky body.

"COME HERE MY LITTLE KINSMEN! WHY DO YOU LURK IN THAT FLESH BAG FORM?"The venomous horned wyrm twitched its head, flicking out a thin forked tongue. Its shrill serpentine voice grated their ears.

Kinsmen? This detestable looking creature was a dragon? Its voice held nothing of the powerful edge their blue drake was endowed, and its appearance further quelled the proud and majestic image of dragons.

"Look what they've done to you…" Elysia gasped, looking positively nauseated by the unsightly image. This dragon's species were much better than this. This _thing_ disgraced the deadly beauty of his quilled kind. He looked mutilated, stripped of everything that once made him a proud dragon, turning him to nothing but a rabid hollow of his venomous might.

"COME HERE!" Vyrfel lunged and Elysia leapt back like a gazelle, narrowly dodging its hooked fingers. Legolas quickly drew his Lothlórien bow and with master aim, released his grip on the fine string. With a twang, an arrow sliced through the air and imbedded itself deep into a yellow eye.

The mutilated drake howled and hissed, thrashing wildly. Branches and trees were torn and splintered by its barbed tail. The four of them leapt back, avoiding the savage beast. But as Aragorn's back met a tree, he was caught in a tangle of thick fallen branches. Vyrfel's remaining eye caught sight of the manflesh. Thirsting for blood, he lashed out his barbed tail in the air like a cracking whip. A small rain of sharp black spines aimed to pepper the man in poisoned quills.

"Aragorn!" Elysia ran towards the man as he freed himself from the branch. Quick as the wind, she whipped out a small razor sharp throwing blade from her back and threw without hesitation. The blade sliced into the remaining yellow eye, and the serpent was blinded.

Sliding to a stop in front of him, she raised Faersing and began to deflect each black needle at rapid pace. However, one escaped her guard and imbued itself into her lower arm. Elysia snarled in pain and in the spur of the moment, she threw Faersing at Vyrfel. The blue edge flew in the air with a gleam of vengeance and promptly cut through the base of the dragon's tail, slicing the appendage off clean. Blood spurted from the wound as the tail fell, twitching against the leaf strewn earth. Faersing sank itself into the trunk of a tree with a wink of its sapphire pommel.

Elysia would have whooped or smirked smugly at her success, but any will to gloat was suppressed by the burning pain in her arm. The needle had pierced her forearm completely and remained there like an ugly arrow. A string of livid curses escaped her gritted teeth as she turned to Aragorn.

"Go to Boromir! I'll handle this!" She barked as she snapped the needle's hooked tip and yanked out the quill with a grunt, throwing it to the earth as though it were filthy.

"Go, lad!" Gimli raised his axe and swung at Vyrfel who still had the sense to dodge before snapping at the dwarf with a hiss. Legolas fired another arrow but the serpent managed to deflect it with a quick turn of its spiked mane.

Aragorn gave them a quick nod of thanks and began running around the hideous drake.

"You won't escape me, manflesh!" The drake turned, intent on biting off the man's head, but a blue blur tackled him with a vicious snarl.

"Your opponent is me, poisonous wrym!" Elysia sank her teeth on a tattered wing-arm and promptly snapped the limb with a powerful chomp, leaving the wing more mangled than before. The flightless dragon screeched and kicked off the storm drake with a sharp foot. Elysia ignored the sting of her abdomen as the hooked talon managed to penetrate her scaled defense.

She leapt back, near Gimli and Legolas, crouched like a hunting cat. Vyrfel sprung up and with one quick look at its tailless end and bloody broken arm, he hissed and raised his frills. Elysia felt the poison hammering and stiffening her arm. Refusing to show weakness to the wound, she growled and crouched lower, ready to move or pounce.

Vyrfel moved first. His long coiled neck snapped out like a deadly adder, but the fellowship was quick. Elysia spat out a firebolt straight into the serpent's mouth, just as Legolas fired a lethal shot at a softer looking patch of bare reptilian skin on the drake's chest. Gimli threw his axe at the long neck, and the weapon imbedded itself in the thick hide, drawing blood.

Elysia's fire shot ignited the flammable venom as Vyrfel inadvertently swallowed the blue comet. They began to back away as the serpent writhed and twitched, and Elysia quickly protected the dwarf and elf from the heat as blue flame erupted from Vyrfel's jaws in all directions, tearing away his lower mandible from the sheer force, for all the venom he stored in his mouth had become explosive fuel. He fell in a smoking heap, coughing and sputtering ash before dying off completely from the combined damage done by the arrow, axe, and flame.

The blue storm drake lowered her wing and the elf, the dwarf, and the dragon stared at the messy sight with a grimace of disgust.

"Stupid wrym…" Elysia spat. The poisonous quilled drake could have simply spat back, expelling the flame and venom, but he _swallowed_ it.

Elysia then began to cringe as her entire arm was now stiffening. Gimli released a victorious roar and stalked up to the fallen drake with his small dwarvish strides.

"Haha! That's what ye get for messin' with a dwarf!" He pulled out his axe from the carcass's neck and turned to his comrades. His face fell when he saw Elysia fall to her side with a small groan. Legolas rushed to her as her form began to fade and shrink back to the dark haired woman.

"Elysia…" He gently picked up her upper body into his arms and grasped the wounded forearm.

"Foul flightless lizard." She cursed as she struggled to sit up. She did with the aid of the elf as Gimli ran to them both. Her arm was becoming limp and unresponsive; soon the poison from the barb would travel through her body and induce the body to a comatose state.

"It's the venom." She spat before they could ask. "The tail spines were coated with it…"

"Is it fatal?" Legolas felt his heart clench in dread.

"To a man, perhaps." Her words made the elf almost sag in relief. "But to a creature sturdier than a mortal, a dragon per say, the venom will leave me paralyzed… A state of sleep, or comatose if you will, but my body's blood and heat should rid it within a few days… I know not for certain."

Gimli sighed in relief. Their dragon will live; she would merely be a limp unconscious sack of bones and flesh for a few days. Legolas immediately wrapped her good arm around him and aided her to a shaky stand. Gimli helped by gathering Silvindr while Legolas half carried Elysia to Faersing to yank it from the tree. When the blue sword and Silvindr were sheathed, Gimli simply took the two and strapped the weapons onto his stocky back while Legolas scooped up Elysia in his arms.

"Hey-"

"We must hurry." Legolas interrupted as he and the dwarf began to run. Gimli was on guard to plow through any incoming Uruk-hai, for Legolas could not string a bow while carrying their dragon maiden.

They followed the trail of dead until they reached Aragorn. Legolas stopped in his tracks when he spotted Boromir's fallen frame lying bellow Aragorn as the ranger knelt. Black arrows protruded from the steward. The elf tightened his hold on the woman in his arms. Elysia stirred at the scent of Boromir and his blood. She turned from her place and her breath hitched at the sight.

"… Boromir?" She whispered.

Legolas held her tighter to his chest, feeling great comfort in doing so. To witness death like this once again, it pained the elf's heart. The sudden thought that it could have been anyone of them, particularly the maiden in his arms who already bore a paralyzing wound, stabbed the elf with great anxiety and sickeningly morbid sliver of relief.

"Where is Pippin? Merry?" Elysia began to stir and Legolas gently loosened his hold, lowering her feet to the floor with great care. His arm still remained wrapped around her as she began to look about with a frantic air.

After the life faded from the steward's eyes, Aragorn took a moment before he stood. He turned to them with silent tears, frowning further when he saw Elysia. She looked pale with cold sweat, hardly appearing capable to stand. Legolas had tended to her arm, using what clothe they could tear and wrapping the puncture wound.

"I am fine… Boromir, he-..." She fell silent at the sullen gaze. A sharp breathless ache swept through the dragon, but before the tears could come, she swallowed the tightness and bit her lip. Boromir has fallen... And from the looks of it, he fell valiantly. She felt the sting of regret, wishing her last words to the steward had been something of more cheer...

"Where are Pippin and Merry?" Her voice cracked as she looked around with an air of desperation. One has fallen, two have left, where was the mischievous pair? The raggedy ranger could not bear to meet the dragon's gaze as he answered.

"The orcs have taken them."

Elysia released a shaky sigh and closed her eyes in despair.

"They wanted to take Elysia as well." Legolas stated with a scowl. "They sent the serpent to contain her."

"Fat lot of good that did them." Gimli snorted for they left the quilled serpent as a rotting smoking carcass in the forest.

They returned to their encampment along the shores. This time Elysia did nothing to protest as Legolas carried her. Her body was beginning to feel sluggish.

Upon their return, the four spotted Frodo and Sam move deep in the forest. To the elf and dwarf's surprise, the ranger and the dragon did nothing. They merely looked on somberly.

"You mean not to follow them." Legolas stated.

Elysia closed her eyes and sighed. "Frodo and Sam's fate is no longer in our hands." She said gravely.

Gimli hung his head in grief. "Then it has all been in vain… The fellowship has failed."

Aragorn did not appear sad. In fact, the ranger looked determined. Taking a step closer to the three, he put one hand on Gimli's shoulder and the other on Elysia's good arm wrapped around Legolas for support.

"Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." He then began to readjust the arm braces of the white tree of Gondor on his forearms, sheathing his elven dagger he looked up at them, renewing hope in their eyes.

"Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light."

"Then you might want to leave me in a concealed area." Elysia advised rather feebly from Legolas's arms. The elf and dwarf gave her aghast looks. Legolas's hold on her form tightened. However, Aragorn stared at her with a level of calm reluctance, for he saw the reason in the dragon's words.

"Are you mad, lass?" Gimli growled. "We lost one member, and ye want us to just leave another behind?"

"I am not asking to be left like a pile of meat left for the crows." She snapped, glaring at them tersely. "But I refuse to be a burden of flesh you carry on your backs. Merry and Pippin need every ounce of strength you have." It was getting harder to speak. Her tongue felt slow and uncooperative.

"Are you sure?" Aragorn asked gravely.

"I cannot leave you here." Legolas said fiercely. "I can carry you-"

"Take Faersing and Silvindr." Elysia forced, her breathe beginning to be strained. "If by the time I awaken, you are still tracking and not killing orc… I'll kill them all myself." She snapped with as much venom she could muster. Her challenge was feeble as her conscious began to wane.

Gimli gave her a small short laugh, grinning at the dragon. "Ha! I accept the challenge!"

"Elysia-" Legolas began but the dragon cut him off. She promptly yanked his hair with her good arm and glared lightly at the elf, clouded eyes locking onto his darkened blue orbs.

"Legolas…" Every word was an effort. "I… Will… Find… You…" She then took one last look at Aragorn who gave her a nod before she faded into darkness, allowing poison induced sleep to overwhelm her.

The dragon's head lolled to the side as her eyes closed. She appeared to be sleeping from exhaustion. Legolas frowned, torn upon their decision to leave the woman behind.

"_Legolas… You know it is for the best."_Aragorn gently pressed in the elven tongue.

Legolas stared at his longtime friend. _"Estel… I… I cannot just-…"_ He could not finish his words, but he need not for deep empathy flooded Aragorn's keen eyes. The ranger was not all that surprised, for he noticed how Legolas interacted with Elysia. He saw the way his Mirkwood friend stared at the dragon, how his thoughts and body naturally gravitate towards her and her every words and movement. Surprised, Aragorn was when he first began to notice the elf's attentions towards the Elysia becoming something more romantic in interest; and it was to a _dragon_ no less.

"_Elysia needs us to focus on Pippin and Merry. We cannot fail her. She trusts us to do what is for the best, even it if does not seem right." _ Aragorn stated to comfort the elf's conflicted heart and mind.

Gimli, finding it irksome that the two were having a conversation he could not comprehend, added his two cents with a snide grumble.

"I'd hate to see the dragon's anger if she finds she is being carried like some baggage. The thought of the lass's wrath worries me more than some orcs." He shuddered as he tightened the straps of Faersing and Silvindr on his back.

The thought also made Legolas's remaining conflict extinguish, for the idea of a mutinous dragon waking up in their travel and Elysia returning to her usual cold mode with him made him unnerved.

"The lass can handle herself, Legolas. She'll catch up to us." Gimli's gruff words of comfort made the elf sigh and the last of his resistance deflate.

They found a small hollow where Merry and Pippin previously hid. Legolas placed her gently on the pile of leaves and covered her comatose form with her Lothlórien cloak. The elf took one last look at her peaceful face, gently brushing a hair away from her cheek before he slowly parted her to a stand. To add extra concealment, he positioned the brush to conceal her hollow from view. Satisfied, Legolas backed away from the slumbering dragon and turned with some effort back to the encampment.

To Aragorn's advice, they chose to travel light. But Legolas could not resist taking Elysia's small rucksack with them. It only held a certain few items of more sentimental value to the dragon, consisting of her sketchbook and drawing material, a handkerchief she stated Bilbo's sister had the courtesy to embroider for her, an old frame she found in Moria, and a few extra throwing blades. When Aragorn glanced curiously at the pack, Legolas appeared a little sheepish.

"Her art." He simply stated. Aragorn smirked and gave the elf a small nod. They were ready. The raggedy ranger secured his elven dagger with a smirk.

"Let's hunt some orc."

The man, the elf, and the dwarf began to run at a relentless pace, tracking the remaining horde of Uruk-hai like wolves tracking a herd. Now it was time for them to become the predator and the orcs to be prey.

000

Pippin jostled against the large and malodorous Uruk-Hai, his hands bounded to have his arms around the creature's neck like a fleshy cloak. He had just ripped off the Lorien leaf clasp around his own cloak and spat it to the ground in hopes of Aragorn finding them. The juggernaut orc creatures began to speak among themselves.

"What of the serpent?"

"The poisonous wyrm is dead." Another answered with a growl. "Vyrfel was all but a useless berserker."

"Lord Saruman will not be pleased." The other gargled in his guttural voice.

"It wasn't _our_ job to get the stupid thing, whatever it was supposed to be. We got the Halflings." The dark creature snapped before they continued in silence, trudging under the hot sun at a tireless pace.

Pippin stopped breathing, realizing who they spoke of. "Elly…" He whispered. Saruman was trying to capture Elysia. He worried for the dragon and also couldn't help but be a little complacent. A person like Elly Walkins would never consent to being hunted.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Ignite as the Tides Turn

Legolas ran, undeterred by the weight of Faersing strapped on his back. The dwarf and the elf made the eventual switch when Legolas noticed the dwarf was beginning to tire from the relentless pace of their hunt. Silvindr, Gimli did not mind, for the falchion weighed uncannily close to nothing, but Faersing seemed to disagree with the dwarf. Under Aragorn's adept tracking skills as a ranger, the three warriors of the fellowship followed the strange juggernaut Uruks for three days and three nights.

The said ranger was currently laying his ear against the earth. He opened his keen pale sea colored eyes and stared at their far front, off into the rocky plain's distance.

"Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent." Upon the realization, he turned to his male companions. "Hurry!" With the demand, the ranger continued running in the lead.

Legolas frowned at the troubling news, turning over his shoulder he called to their bronze bearded dwarf.

"Come on, Gimli!" he urged, not unkindly.

The said dwarf breathed heavily, using his trust axe as a walking aid as he gasped for air under the heat of the sun and weight of the insulating armor and gear.

"Three days and nights pursuit…No food, no rest, no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell." He grumbled as he pushed forward.

Legolas felt sympathy for his dwarf comrade but said nothing, for pity was unneeded and it did nothing to aid their pursuit. He began to run after his ranger friend, his mind lingering upon the fate of their dragon. Elysia had yet to return to them, and a part of the elf's heart and mind constantly thought of the woman, worrying and yearning for her presence like he had done when she took flight after Moria. He began to needlessly worry for the dragon, wondering if she was pained, or if she was found, or if she was ill. Mere trivial concerns, he knew this, but the elf could not help it. She had grown upon his heart like a tree with deep roots, continuing to grow and dig deeper. The rising feelings for the dragon were becoming clearer and clearer. Even without her presence, her roots were still digging if not faster now that she was not with them.

While the other two males did not worry or think upon Elysia as much as the elf prince did, Aragorn and Gimli missed the dragon. With her resourcefulness, endless dragon stamina, and fiery will, they would likely have intercepted the orcs. Gimli found himself in sore need of one of Elysia's caustically humorous remarks, for as dry as they can be, they were also oddly refreshing to the dwarf. Aragorn was indebted to the dragon even more now than ever before, for she had injured herself upon protecting him. She did so without hesitation, and he felt honored upon being the dragon's "raggedy ranger". The ranger pushed aside his worries for the dragon, for he had faith in her strength. If Elysia said she will do something, it will be done. She said she would return to them, perhaps even outrun—or in her case, outfly—them and intercept Merry and Pippin ahead of time. The warriors of the fellowship could only believe and trust the storm drake to return with vigor.

000

She could feel her body, smell the autumn air, and soon her sight would return. It was feet that first obeyed her will. The muscles were moving, twitching upon her mind's command. Slowly, the sensation of control began to spread throughout her muscles as her blood's resilience began to destroy the remaining toxins from her system. Soon her fingers began to twitch, then her arms, then her legs… Eventually, Elysia regained control and sensation of every fiber of her being. Almond eyes eventually opened, revealing orbs of stormy silver staring at the branch of a thick bush hovering over her form.

Her hand lifted from its chaste position on her lower chest, clenching and unclenching as it unveiled itself from the Lothlórien cloak draped over her lying figure. Elysia felt a slight dull stab pain on her forearm with every clench, for while the venom faded the flesh wound still remained. Her mind was quick in its rummaging, recalling the last events prior to her comatose state. It only took a heartbeat for the dragon to remember and reacted even faster upon remembering. Elysia sat up with a gasp, slapping away the bush.

The movement came with regret, for a wave of nausea swept through her. Elysia swallowed hard, grimacing at the gut rolling sensation. Looking about, her mind raced with the situation.

Merry and Pippin had been captured by those foul new breed of orcs.  
The stubborn steward has fallen.  
Sam and Frodo were off on to the fiery chasm of mount doom, all on their own.  
And the elf, ranger, and dwarf were probably on the hunt.

Snatching the cloak from her torso, she forced herself to a stand, still a little shaken from the poison's effects. Her muscles involuntarily twitched and stiffened with the sudden movement. She knew not of how long she remained comatose, but Elysia knew it had been more than a single fortnight. The sun was beginning to set.

Immediately whirling the cloak around to drape her lissome figure, she clasped the leaf of Lothlórien firmly against the lower hollow of her throat once more. She must set off to find the other warriors, but first thing was first… She needed to find something to eat.

Elysia eventually found the sturdy grace in her legs as she continued to move through the trees and down towards the shore. Without pause to smile at her fortune, she grabbed a pack of Lembas bread that lay forgotten on one of the boats and quickly tore through the package. Etiquette was thrown out her mind's window as she folded the flat cake and began to devour the food. Upon three to four of the breads, she set the pack of food aside and began to stretch her stiff muscles. The cogwheels of her mind spun at a rapid pace, calculating the situation before her.

She knew not of how many days she remained comatose, but judging from the staleness of her fellowship warriors' scent, she could say with some certainty she has been unconscious for over two-three days but less than five days to a week. By this time, she knew whether or not Aragorn had managed to intercept the orcs, but knowing of their stamina and build, she doubted he managed to catch up to them. They had Faersing with them, and she could use the sword to communicate similar to a Palantir. Her ability to skry might be a little shabby from less practice, but it was worth a try.

That left the issue of catching up to them. She may be tireless and fast, but she needed at least two days or so to catch up to the relentless pace of the trio on foot, and time was very limited on this chase. But if she were to fly... she could cut the time, however it risks Saruman of discovering her. Her flight route would take her to Rohan, and thus dangerously close to the wizard's territory.

The white wizard already had suspicions of a powerful member of the fellowship. If she were to risk flying so close to Isengard, she would defy what Gandalf always pressed upon. But that argument was quickly resolved in her mind, for she knew her master… her _father_ would certainly understand and likely encourage such risks at situation like this that called for the desperate measure.

Her mind was set, and she felt alive with energy at the challenge before her. Elysia looked up, and fortune smiled upon her for the sky was dulling with clouds in the dim evening haze. Focusing her mind and magic, she felt the shift come as natural as breathing. Before the cloud of wispy ethereal essence could fade, a blue winged form launched itself into the twilight sky. It left a powerful echo of wind swaying through the trees and rippling through the shore.

000

The sky began to turn purple; soon they were enveloped in darkness. Eventually they were forced to stop. If Gimli ran any further, he would likely collapse. They did not speak of it, but they did see it. The dwarf would likely deny it fiercely and force them to continue if he thought they stopped for him. They would only rest for less than a handful of hours before they continued moving. Aragorn sat against a rock while Legolas continued to stare into the distance.

The prince suddenly stilled rigid at a warm pulsing sensation upon his back. Faersing was thrumming with energy. He could feel it. Frowning, he pulled off the strap and stared at the sword, careful not to touch the handle. The sapphire pommel seemed to flicker with blue flame from within. It was as though Faersing was beckoning him. Not knowing what exactly compelled him, Legolas reached and with a hesitant hand, he touched the smooth surface of the sapphire.

The reaction was instantaneous. A strange shock coursed through his hand. An invisible forced yanked the elf's hand, forcing the palm and the fingers to embrace the ovular jewel in his grasp. An alien presence began to stir in his mind, touching and connecting to his head as though it were building a thin bridge out of thread.

"_Legolas…"_

The presence felt outlandish yet familiar, for the voice was all the same but intensified as though she spoke in a cave.

_Elysia?_

"_Is Merry and Pippin there?"_

… _No, we have not caught the horde yet. Elysia what- _He was cut off by the wave of impatience.

"_I see…"_

"Elysia wait!" Legolas hadn't realized he blurted those words out loud, but the elf was so startled by the sudden sever in the odd mental link. Aragorn and Gimli snapped their heads to the Mirkwood prince. The ranger merely appeared curious while the dwarf wondered if the elf was losing his mind.

Legolas turned to them, his hand still gripping the pommel of Faersing. He appeared excited yet anxious.

"She is awake."

They did not question how the elf knew the dragon was awake, more curious in when the dragon would come. Aragorn stood up with a relieved light in his eyes.

"When will she-"

He was silenced by the powerful gale of wind ramming against his back . Legolas also cringed at the wind and nearly dropped Faersing when it began to pulsate with energy. The wind came and went as though it were an animal that sped past them. As soon as the short burst of air eased, they all looked to the sky. In the dark cloudy night, they could just make out the odd dark outline speeding into the night, soaring farther into Rohan.

For some reason, the dwarf and the man looked to the elf with the blue sword for answers. Legolas merely stared at Faersing with a curious frown.

"…. She is very… upset." Upset was an understatement. The elf could feel Faersing pulsating with its master's anger and savagery. The dragon sped through the sky like an arrow with the intent to hunt down the horde. Elysia was awake and out for orc blood.

His simple words were a little obvious. Aragorn sighed while Gimli snorted and growled.

"Well of course. Ye think we wouldn't figure that out for ourselves with the lass swooping pass with a storm of angry wind?!"

000

The wind was pushing against her, but that was just what the dragon needed. It was wafting the scent of her prey, beckoning the dragon, encouraging her to strike down upon the unsuspecting orcs. The dragon bared her teeth and her eyes gleamed with a vicious glow. She shall bring the merciless nature of the squall upon them, give them her thunderous wrath. She is a dragon, lightning and death… the oncoming storm.

Merry and Pippin were tossed to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The Uruk-hai and their orc half-kin began to grumble and snarl amongst themselves, chopping off tree branches in Fangorn Forest for a fire. The woods began to groan and moan, but they paid little heed. They were too concerned with their stomachs; wanting meat, fresh meat dripping with delectable blood. The Halflings looked tasty, and they were sorely tempted. But to the smaller orcs' dismay, the hobbits were "not for eating". The orcs began to grown and spit at the Uruks, the stinking new breed thought they are better because they are bigger and stronger. The orcs were here longer. What right did they have in ordering them about?

"Just a mouthful…." An orc neared the hobbits, blade in hand, he licked his chops. "… a bit of the flank." He raised his dagger, but the Uruk in charge, determined to keep to Saruman's orders, snarled and beheaded the gremlin.

Pippin flinched, speechless, as the head fell to his feet. The Uruks roared and the leader laughed.

"Looks like meats back on the menu, boys!" With a guttural snarl, they pounced upon their kinsmen, shoving the Halflings aside. The hobbits crawled away from the blatant cannibalism of the foul beings, nauseated and terrified. They hoped to crawl to more safety from the barbaric sight but something hard pinned Pippin to the ground.

A sallow looking orc turned him over, gnashing his teeth. "Go on! Call for help! No one's gonna save you now!" He raised his dagger, intent on gutting the Took.

A howling roar ripped through the air, reverberating in their ears. Then there came an even more familiar sound and sight as a bright blue starlit bolt flashed through the air and smashed into the gathered horde of Uruk-hai and orcs with a warping blast of noise. The sound rattled their chests like a crack of thunder. The orc hovering over Pippin was flung back by a hot shockwave of force, rolling on the grass with a guttural squeal.

Pippin and Merry cringed at the bright flash of the strike. The smell of crisply burned flesh filled their nostrils. Squeals and snarls erupted through the horde as the Uruk-hai and orcs attempted to recover their bearings. Several were burned and blinded, and chunks of burnt flesh and armor lied on the grass, encircling a charred empty circle. Another short shrieking hiss filled their ears and once again, an explosive firebolt struck another crowd of unprepared orcs, scattering them wildly like frightened goats.

They began to grab whatever sword, cleaver, or shield they could find and spun around madly. But they could not see them in this darkness. Were the enemies to the north, the east, the west, or to the south?

None… For the enemy was _above_.

Another blast threw them back, blinding them once again as something came down in one fell swoop and grabbed two Uruks in its grasp like a hawk would to mice. They were thrown against the wall of trees bordering Fangorn as the avian demon began to soar up. Blast after blast, the relentless firebolts came like lightning strikes. The orcs and Uruks roared and squealed in fear and fury, but nothing stopped the airborne assault. They were throwing whatever weapon they could at the sky, but it was futile. Soon they began to scatter like mad hens, but the airborne enemy was without mercy for the creatures. It did not allow a single Uruk-kai to escape. Those that entered Fangorn had better chances, for the beast did not seem to fire at them. However, the foe soon saw their wild escape plan and swooped down with a gust of wind. A bright blue stream of fire flew from the maws, burning a line between Fangorn and the remaining Uruk-hai and orcs. The corralling did not stop there, for the beast began to circle them and create a fence of blue flame.

With the light of the might cerulean blaze, their foe was unveiled from the darkness. The discovery of their foe's identity, however, gave nothing of leverage for the blue scaled drake had trapped them in a room of fire and its glowing silver eyes seemed to know this with malicious satisfaction. Death came to them in a slaughterhouse of blue and heat.

Merry and Pippin managed to scamper at the distraction. Their hopes and faith in Elysia rose tremendously when they realized she was avoiding their area. She had come to rescue them, not just blindly rain fire and roast everyone in the horde alive. Merry immediately snatched at the chance to guide Pippin to an axe. They two quickly began to cut off their bonds. Pippin turned to give a loud whoop as Elysia blasted another crowd with fire. Merry grabbed his companion and yanked him towards the forest.

"Come on!" They had to run.

Unfortunately their escape was noticed by the sallow faced orc. It snarled and spat out a globule of purple from its foul mouth and began to chase the hobbits into Fangorn, escaping the fiery massacre of his doomed brethren.

000

If they weren't dead from the heat, they fell from suffocation. The inferno burned the last of their air. The dragon swooped and began to hover closer to the inferno in search of the Halflings. They were nowhere in sight.

_They must have gone to Fangorn… Oh no… I should warn Viri-_

The dragon barely managed to bank her wing to the left, evading a lance hurled through the air. She released a hiss as she narrowed her eyes at the incoming cavalry. They were the Riders of Rohan, and they were coming towards her with their spears raised. Fools… She did not have time to deal with the troublesome horsemen.

They saw her, illuminated by the great fires of her destruction. Elysia growled in frustration and lowered to the ground, dodging another spear. She must enter Fangorn and find Merry and Pippin. The ancient and very volatile forest was no place for two troublesome hobbits. Her tail deflected an incoming lance dangerously close to puncturing her wing. Sorely tempted to roast the riders alive, she forced herself to quell her dragon quickly focused her magic and began to shrink.

Eomer nearly yanked his horse's reins to a halt at the sight before him. He was about to throw another spear at the dragon, fighting against the terror coursing through his veins. They were terrified, preparing their spears for they were aware dragon scales were impenetrable to their flimsy arrows. It was small but its destruction was no small feat. The blue tongued flames were a beacon visible several leagues away.

The riders were despairing at the waning hope for Rohan. Their king is a marionette of Saruman, they are banished, and now there is a _dragon_ flying about the Riddermark. This was certainly the end for their proud kingdom. Their despair was mingled with confusion, for it seems the dragon had desecrated a horde of Uruk-hai and orcs. Their confusion spiked when it landed and began to _shrink_.

Eomer stared at the dissipating flurry of wispy blue scales and light, for in the place of the dragon stood a smaller feminine human figure. She was surrounded by the flames, undeterred from the heat. He could not see her face with resolution. The fire was shadowing the black bangs obscuring her face from view, but he did see a pair of glowing silver orbs gleam at him from her face. The woman… dragon… creature seemed disinterested, for she turned her back on them. A dark braided tail whipped about and soon she vanished from view as the flames rose higher.

They stopped their horses a few meters from the fire. The smell of burnt flesh and ash made their eyes smart and their throats choke. The dragon woman had left them nothing but incinerating remains of her prey. Eomer quickly ordered the horsemen to attempt to stifle the furious portion of flames with some dirt.

000

Elysia ran deep into the forest of Fangorn. She did not bother to look back to the Rohan riders and left them to simply assess the aftermath of her assault. The ambush left her thoroughly refreshed and satisfied with a vicious edge. She could not gloat in her satisfaction for time was short. Elysia quickly pressed her hands to her temple, summoning her horns. As the horns emerged, she released a short high keen scream. Soundwaves echoed through forest. A moment of silence passed, and the dragon scowled. Discouraged and worried, she began to leap over roots and weave through trees. She stopped when she spotted a gruesome sight of an orc squashed against the mossy ground. Something appeared to have stepped on him.

Narrowing her keen eyes, she began to stare at the ground around her. There were odd imprints in the dirt, coming all the way from a small pit of dirt where there seemed to be traces of a tree. It was as though the tree simply yanked itself out of its roots and… began to walk.

Merry and Pippin's scent stopped here. There was a missing tree. There were no signs of a dead stepped on hobbit.

Elysia looked up at the sky and released a sigh, exasperated and absolutely unamused rather than fearful. She comes to rescue the hobbits, leaves them on their own for a few moments, and now they have been taken by a tree….

Her ear horns suddenly twitched and shivered as they captured a low baritone groan echo through Fangorn. The groans became louder and she grimaced at its assault on her sensitive hearing. The dragon quickly had her horns recede as a tree behind her began to groan and shift. Elysia leapt away from the moving roots and promptly glared at the tree in indignation.

"I don't speak tree!" She snapped, glaring at the thick tall tree. The archaic air and darkness of the magic forest did not frighten the irritated drake. She had been here on enough occasions to be used to the eerie aura of the forest.

The tree stopped shifting its roots. With a rumbling crackle of wood and dirt, it lifted a large gnarled hand-shaped root. Elysia released a snarl and glared at the hand, daring it to pick her up like some pet kitten.

But the gnarled root hand simply crackled and its fingers began to creak and bend to somewhat of a point. Elysia frowned at the pointing finger and turned to gaze in the designated direction. She stared at a thinner spiraling tree with odd long branches sprouting about. It began to shift and uncoiled its spiraling form with a pivot. Massive amber eyes stared at the dragon and a rough wood hand beckoned her.

The dragon warily walked towards the old Ent, curious but suspicious. A short stubby branch jutted out like a crooked nose between the gold sap hued eyes. With a groan, the twisted bark beneath began to split, revealing a mouth. The ancient talking tree inhaled deeply before it spoke.

"MMMMMMmmmmmmmesssage from earthennnnnnscales, I bear…" It hummed, moaned, and groaned. Elysia stifled her impatient temper.

Gnashing her teeth momentarily she inquired. "What news from Virin, then?" The old earth dragon of Fangorn _would_ be on very friendly speaking terms with giant slow talking trees. Elysia huffed inwardly.

"Ttttthhhheeeeee hobbits aaaare safffffe. Uuuuunnnnnder the protectionnnn of mmmmine kinnnn."

It drawled as it slowly gestured to itself.

"What? Wait… What? Under what reason?" She sputtered in complete bafflement. The Ents have never involved themselves with anyone. They never even awoke all these years. Elysia was even dumbfounded this one was talking to her.

The Ent blinked slowly. "Ttthhheeeeee White Wizzzaaard… Waaaaits for yooouuu…."

Her muscles went rigid. Elysia's glare darkened. "… Saruman?"

The Ent did not answer. It merely began to point with painstaking slowness.

"Heeeee waaiits there… Earthennnnnscales advvvvviiices to folllooooow your scales…. Annnnd nnnooot to be hasssty." The Ent then began to sink back into the dirt as if to snuggle in its comforter of earth. The hand began to rise and join the branches as the trunk spiraled once more. The face disappeared from sight, leaving Elysia to scowl deeply at the Ent.

"Of course… Don't be hasty… Brilliant advice coming from the laziest dragon and a slow bumbling tree." She muttered darkly.

There was a groan of protest nearby, and Elysia merely snorted, undeterred as she began to walk through the forest of Fangorn, eyes wary and sharp as she reached her back and pulled out a small blade. Doubtful the throwing knives would have any effect on a White Wizard, but it was still worth a shot. If she had to, she could always transform and simply cook him alive. The dragon had a bone to pick with the traitorous Istari. Mithrandir had always trusted his judgment, only to have the trust spat back at his face as Saruman's greed for power guided him to the darkness of Sauron.

The sensation in her scales was getting stronger. It was like an itch she could not scratch. Every sense was high strung and ready, and every muscle was a coiled spring. Paranoia made her twitchy and keen, for she feared capture. She would not consent to being caged ever again, but she refused to run from this encounter. Elysia had been Gandalf's old apprentice, and he was also her sire. She will not back down from a dishonorable old hag like Saruman.

A rustle caught her ear. Elysia flung her knife at breakneck speed in the direction of sound.

THWACK!

The blade lodged itself into the thick bark of a tree. There was nothing there, nothing but tree after tree after tree. Elysia sighed, but then there came a light breeze and a prickling sensation upon her back.

The dragon froze. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. Within a few moments, she stood ramrod straight.

Those eyes were boring into her back. The familiar scent carried by the sudden breeze brought a flash of recognition into her mind. Her heart began to palpitate, fueled by a growing hope. But her mind began to huddle upon itself, cringing away from the rising hope.

It was not possible. She watched him fall, saw him let go, heard his last words.

But there was always magic in this world, and it went in any shape and form. She was living proof of it. So… Nothing is impossible.

Elysia found her body, but she did not find her voice. So, with painstakingly slow movement, she began to turn. A calm white radiance filled her peripheral, and eventually she fully faced the being before her. Her breath hitched as she gazed at the white robes, trailing up the pale splendor until she met those familiar pale eyes. They twinkled at her with mild mirth, pride, and gentle warmth of such magnitude that it made the dragon's heart ache.

This cannot be Saruman. Saruman would not have such radiance and warmth in gaze and appearance. Saruman, she imagined, would be cold and bleak like a frozen desert. There was too much love in that gaze, too much familiarity. Even if the being did not have that pointy blue gray hat, gray ropes, gnarled root staff, and long scraggly gray beard…. He had the face… And those eyes… If that wasn't enough, he smiled and spoke in that same old voice of wisdom.

"Hello my dear little dragon…" He held his white staff and leaned against it with an affectionate smile.

When he spoke those words, the first words he had ever spoken to her in the glacier cave so long ago, something finally gave way in Elysia's rigidity. The dragon finally released a shaky breath. Her lips parted as she stared at the old man with a storm of hope and disbelief.

They were only a few paces apart. A few short paces of Elysia being able to physically confirm his presence….

As she did so long ago when she first began to travel, whenever they were split and reunited quickly, Elysia ran to him, shortening the distance with a few strong strides and tackled the wizard in an embrace. She held onto the old teacher, her _sire,_ and simply buried her head against his shoulder. The old Istari did not hesitate in returning the embrace, and shut his eyes in tight crinkles as he began to pat her back and stroke her head.

Elysia did not shed tears, but Gandalf allowed a few to escape him as he held the girl close. If Elysia knew, she said nothing and simply breathed in the strangely different but still same scent of the old man. He smelled of everything peaceful, and now there was an air of power about him that she did not miss.

"… You're white." She muffled into his clothes.

"Yes your observational skills are astounding, Elysia." He chuckled. Elysia separated the embrace to give him a glare. Gandalf simply smiled and gave her head a pat before he held his staff closer.

"I am what Saruman would have been." Gandalf lifted a hand and guided his daughter to walk with him in Fangorn as though they were taking a leisurely stroll; it was time for them to catch up on a few things. He informed her of his toils, fighting the Balrog high and low until he slayed the demon. He _did_ die, but by the deity he was sent back, promoted, to finish the task given to him when he first came to Middle Earth. It explained the aura the dragon felt around him. He radiated with a greater tang of magic, Elysia could almost taste it in the air.

The groan of trees silenced their conversation momentarily. Gandalf smiled as he stared wistfully into the woods, but Elysia glared at him.

"Pippin and Merry… You left them with a tree?" her eyes held a mildly skeptical edge as she assessed his judgement.

Gandalf quirked a brow and nodded. "Yes, they are in much safer hands. I have left them with Treebeard."

"The tree shepherd?" Elysia frowned. "Huh… Then I suppose Pippin and Merry will meet Virin soon."

"Your earthly drake friend?" Gandalf inquired.

The dragon nodded. "Virin will most likely take the chance to see the hobbits himself. He was always curious but the dirt serpent is too lazy to leave Fangorn." she explained.

Gandalf nodded and then assessed the dragon with even but curious eyes. Elysia answered his unspoken question with a small sigh.

"We… We reached Lothlórien… And I spoke to Lady Galadriel." hesitance was woven deep into her statement.

The white wizard said nothing, but his eyes softened and a small knowing smile reached his lips. They ended their stroll at a large mossy flat boulder. Gandalf was content to lean against the boulder while Elysia sat, but not after brushing away the twigs, leaves, and dirt from her spot.

The dragon stared at her feet, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words.

"… So… You… and my mother." She began. Elysia cringed inwardly at the tactless start to the subject.

Unexpectedly, Gandalf was not amused or entertained. He looked a bit apprehensive, belying his confident and majestically wise appearance. His grip on his staff tightened as if relying upon it for support.

Seeing his unease as well, Elysia's shoulders sank. "So... I was never abandoned?" She asked attentively.

"No…" Gandalf shook his head sullenly. "What I desired was to watch you grow… To watch Sapphira birth my child and…" He straightened himself. "But I had a duty to fulfill…"

"Yes, so you said." Elysia remarked tonelessly. There was no bitterness. The dragon maiden simply remained uncertain how to react to this. She was never adept with the matter of sentiments.

"Did…" She simply thought of all the questions running rampant in her mind and spoke of one.

"Did you ever….." her throat felt tight.

"Did I ever wonder? Yes… Whenever a moment could be spared." Gandalf swallowed hard. "Did I despise myself… At times I have..." His response became gruff. It was difficult for him as difficult as it was for her to grow the way she did, to experience the things she had. This notion made the dragon sigh. The wizard told her everything through the memory. He needed not to repeat himself. That would simply be cruel on her part to make him relive the darker times.

Perhaps he had questions of his own. The Istari seemed to restrain himself, but the questions were there; she saw it in his eyes.

"… Mother once told me the reason she chose you…" She said softly. Gandalf turned his gaze towards her and blinked.

Elysia smirked softly and continued. "She said you were the one because you feared her… You feared her, but unlike anyone else you openly admitted your fear and you still pursued her… You were the first person to genuinely look at her flaws as much as her strengths and love both all the same."

Elysia turned to Gandalf who wore a soft bemused expression.

"You accepted the things around you for what it was… And you saw and accepted her for who she truly was…. There was no one else after you. She did not look for anyone else or returned interest to those who had interest in her…. It was always you…"

"It was mutual." Gandalf smiled.

Elysia snorted. "I sure hope so."

The dragon then sobered. "I… I'm sorry your time together was limited."

"Do not." Gandalf replied gently. "For she made an honorable sacrifice, and I am eternally grateful for it… I was allowed to have time with you." He tilted his head and chuckled.

"Remember what you said, Elysia. Your story is not entirely sad nor has it ended… It had happiness in which I was blessed to be part in."

She said nothing because there was nothing to be said. The dragon stared blankly at her front and they lapsed into silence. She then quietly shuffled through her elven garb, grasping the warm metal hidden in the inner pouch of her tunic. When her hand pulled out, in its grasp was the gift of Lady Galadriel; the foldable picture frame/fairth.

The dragon thought long and hard for one moment. Then she opened the palm sized frame with a click, revealing two blank pale slate surfaces within. Closing her eyes, Elysia began to think long and hard, rummaging through the archives of her mind until she grasped a particular memory and picture. Channeling the magic through her spirit and frame, she focused the image unto one of the two slates.

The blank surface began to shift and morph in splotches of several colors. Red morphed with white, then blues began to rise with greens, backs and grays, then as the colors shifted, they began to stretch, twirl, curve, and straighten, formulating an image with gradual clarity. Elysia did not need to open her eyes to know the first image was done. Then she moved onto the next blank portion and focused. The same strange transitions began and ended with Elysia's sigh of finality.

She opened her eyes and gazed at the two images she pulled from her memory that were as clear as day. The first rectangle held half a woman's figure. The woman sat on a boulder with a Loivissa flower pinched in her grasp. A small smile graced her lips as she gazed at the flower with lidded eyes. The second image held the same woman, but this time it was focused more on her face. She was staring straight at the frame, as though she knew she was being memorized and drawn down. Her straight raven hair haloed around her, the motion of her turning to look straight into the frame frozen forever in the image. She was not smiling. But there was a proud glow in her face as she stared with a sharp and steady gaze.

The woman bore uncanny resemblance to Elysia, almost an exact replica, but her almond shaped eyes were not any shade of gray but a deep royal blue of such depth that one could be lost in a mere image of them. Her hair was straighter as well, though equally dark in shade, and she had a slightly darker complexion than Elysia, a paled olive tone.

Elysia took one long look at the solid image of Sapphira Brightscales' humanoid form. She felt a little pride in her success, for the two images were perfect in color and detail with her mother, but the background was a little faded. The background was of little importance. After a moment of assessing her handiwork, she handed the foldable picture frame to the wizard.

Gandalf stared at the handheld frame. He reached with a hesitant hand, accepting the pictures of his beloved.

The dragon watched as her sire's eyes began to focus with heartbreaking longing and adoration as he drank in the sight of the woman. That one look told Elysia enough. Mithrandir truly loved her mother. She turned away and swallowed the tight sensation in her throat down, forcing her voice to be even.

"Keep it." She struggled to restrain the quiver from emerging in her words. "… She would have wanted you to have an image of her… In case you forget in your ancient age." They both knew neither would ever forget the woman they loved dearly in their life.

"Thank you…" Gandalf whispered, his eyes never leaving the picture.

Elysia only nodded and cleared her throat. She quickly fidgeted with the bandage around her forearm, undoing the cloth and tossing it to the side. "So… How are you to inform them? Are you simply going to poof behind the raggedy ranger, red beard, and Greenleaf and simply shine there with blinding light and say something of great riddling charisma?" She pondered rather caustically.

The white wizard glanced at her, and a smirk Elysia knew all too well formed on his bearded mouth. Elysia wore a deadpan expression and simply waved her hand.

"Do what you will." She huffed. "In the meantime, I am going to find some food."

The dragon began to walk off into the woods, pulling out another throwing blade. Gandalf turned to her and called.

"Ask before you pluck the trees of anything." He warned. "And don't drink the water!"

"I'm not a hatchling, I've been here before!" She retorted disdainfully without looking back. The wizard chuckled and simply gazed at the pictures in the frame.

"She is more like me every day." He mused.

000

The red sun was rising. Something burned in the horizon, giving the air an ashy taste. Aragorn ceased their run when the sound of horses came to his ears. Quick to hide, they concealed themselves behind a boulder. A throng of armored battle-ready riders rode past them. Aragorn released a small sigh of relief as he recognized the horsemen of Rohan,

"Riders of Rohan!" He called. "What news from the mark!"

But the relief ended when crowd swerved at his call, looking no less amicable as they surrounded them and point their spears towards the three. A tall burly blond man with a helmet bearing a horse at its center lowered himself to the ground and glared at them in suspicion.

"What business does an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" He demanded. "Speak quickly!"

The tension tightened at Gimli's uncouthly smart remark and Legolas's quick threat to defend his dwarf companion upon the horseman's threatening of decapitation. Aragorn quickly quelled the rigidity with an air of urgency. The rider revealed himself to be Eomer, nephew to the King of Rohan. Grave news travelled with the horsemen. Saruman has poisoned the mind of his uncle and claimed the lands as his own. Eomer and his cavalry are those who are banished, for they bear no loyalty to the white hand but to Rohan.

The banished horseman gazed at the three with great suspicion, speaking of spies of Saruman lurking about their lands.

"The White wizard's spies slip past our nets… And now great evil has come here in the form of a blue storm of fire and death." He appeared anguished. "There is a dragon roaming about Rohan; perhaps another spy of Saruman…."

Aragorn quickly refuted this dark assumption.

"She is no spy nor are we. We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive. She means no harm to Rohan."

Eomer appeared incredulous. "That beast is yours?" He growled.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, knuckles tightening as he gripped his bow. If Aragorn were not restraining him indiscreetly, he would have once again had Eomer at the mercy of his arrow.

"She is no _beast_." His voice was like ice, and his eyes became sparked with anger. "You will not speak of Elysia with such boor."

The tension tightened. Eomer critically stared at the elf, confused and wary by his quickness to act in defense for the dragon.

Gimli huffed. "Don't mind the pointy eared elf; he's defensive of his dragon lass. What of the Uruk-hai?" The dwarf asked impatiently. They did not have time for Legolas to defend the lady's honor and end up speared by one of the horsemen's sharp points.

The pointy eared elf gave Gimli a slight look, his heart giving a little jolt at the "his".

Eomer scowled, still thoroughly confused. A band made up of an elf, a man, a dwarf, and a _dragon_? These are strange times.

"The Uruks are destroyed…" He turned his eyes to Legolas. "_Your dragon_ slaughtered them during the night."

Gimli grimaced in disappointment. "Curse that blue lizard." She ended the party before Gimli could even join. "Did you see two hobbits?"

"They would only be children in your eyes." Aragorn added.

Eomer grimaced and shook his head. "What we saw was a ring of blue flame and the remaining Uruks trapped within… The blue drake rained strange stars upon them, burned them, leaving nothing but blackened smoking death…. I do not think your dragon left any alive… Even her own allies."

Legolas's eyes narrowed. "You know nothing of her." His words were deathly calm as he glared. This horseman was dishonoring Elysia, thinking her nothing but a savage. As if she would carelessly incinerate the hobbits with the foul orcs.

Before the tension could rise, Aragorn cut in with more civility.

"She is _not_ the type to kill so thoughtlessly."

The horseman did not argue with the ranger's adamant gaze. He simply whistled for the two horses without riders and offered them to the three.

"Hasufel, Arod!" He called, summoning a sorrel horse and a white steed. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." He leapt back onto his own steed and spoke in a grave voice.

"Look for your friends, but do not trust hope. It has forsaken these lands." He then called his riders to order and began to ride north, leaving the elf, the man, and the dwarf in their own business.

...

They spotted the faint smoke rising pass the hill and sped their steeds. The sight made Gimli gasp as he gazed from his position behind the elf. Where the Uruk-hai and orcs were, the entire ground was charred black with patches small craters. Black bodies were strewn everywhere, many not in one piece, charred and in utter disarray. There was no sign of life, no hobbits, and no dragon.

They began to walk around the ground in search of any clues. Gimli kicked a mutilated and burned orc's head. He spotted a belt and paused in his mutterings, lifting it eye level he frowned.

"It's one of the hobbits' wee belts." He explained.

Aragorn scowled while Legolas simply began to unstrap Faersing. The ranger cringed at the ashen black mess around them.

"She could have shown some restraint." He sighed. Legolas looked up at him as he gripped the blue scabbard.

"I do not think restraint in battle is in a dragon's nature." He responded with some amusement. The dwarf snorted while Aragorn realized what Legolas intended to do.

"You know the ancient tongue?" He asked curiously.

The elf prince licked his lips and almost appeared a little sheepish. "I listen…" He always listened whenever he could when the dragon spoke. Her voice and details of her culture always allured him. The dwarf gave another snort while Aragorn fought the urge to smile.

Legolas ignored them and merely focused, hoping he spoke well enough for Faersing.

"_**I am a friend to your master." **_Faersing's pommel winked.

"_**I seek your master."**_ When the words fell from his lips, Faersing began to tingle and soon its pommel pulsed with the curious signaling light. Upon pointing it towards every direction, the signals came strongest towards a specific point.

Legolas smiled and they looked at the designated point, only to falter in their relief.

Gimli stared at the dark old forest with apprehension. "Fangorn Forest… What madness drove her there?"

000

The very air of the forest was wrought with some unspoken magic. No doubt the elf felt it, as did the ranger. Even the dwarf felt it, and it gave him shivers. Legolas listened as the trees began to creak and moan, recalling the history of the elves teaching the trees to speak. He could feel their anger, sense their suspicion upon the visitors with sharp cutting weapons.

He sensed the trees… And he sensed the white stranger. Legolas's grip on Faersing's scabbard tightened, worry clenched his heart.

"_Aragorn… Something is out there."_ He whispers in elvish. The ranger neared him as Legolas gently placed Faersing on the ground. The glow of the pommel dissipated as though Faersing were content to rest.

"_What do you see?"_ Aragorn asked as Legolas drew an arrow.

"The White Wizard approaches." His whisper darkened. "What if Elysia has been captured?" Panic and anger writhed in him. What if the dragon was taken to Isengard along with Merry and Pippin? He recalled the memory of the mutilated spiked drake and the dread made him nauseas. Legolas would put an arrow between the wizard's eyes if Saruman even _attempted_ to contort the beautiful dragon into something mindless and monstrous.

He felt the prickle of the powerful presence behind them.

Aragorn slowly began to draw his sword. Gimli tightened the grip on his axe.

"Do not let him speak." The ranger warned. "He will put a spell on us."

The elf's fingers grazed the feathered end of his arrow. Electric blue eyes narrowed. Their pulse began to pace quicker as Aragorn hissed.

"We must be quick."

They turned and faced a blinding figure shrouded in radiant white light. Gimli heaved and threw his axe with a snarl. It was deflected. Legolas quickly fired an arrow, but yet again that was deflected as well, and before the ranger could raise his sword, it began to glow red with searing heat, forcing him to drop it.

The light was blindingly bright, but they defiantly refused to look away from their foe.

"You are looking for a dragon… And tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits." A deep powerful voice came from the figure of light.

"Where are they?!" Aragorn demanded.

"They passed this way." The voice began to lessen in authority, calming to a more casual tone. "A day before yesterday." The white wizard explained. "They met someone they… did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

Aragorn glared. "Who are you?... Show yourself!"

The light faded and as soon as their eyes adjusted, they stared into a very familiar pair of gray eyes.

"It cannot be…" Aragorn whispered. Legolas's worry extinguished at the sight of the wizard and he immediately knelt.

"Forgive me… I mistook you for Saruman."

Gandalf smiled at them as they all began to kneel. "I am Saruman… Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

000

"Where is Elysia?" Legolas inquired as Gandalf _the White_ came down from the flat mossy boulder. The elf reached to gather Faersing when a familiar smoky voice filled his ears.

"Did you toss Faersing to the _ground_? In the _dirt? Greenleaf?!_" The voice sounded mildly outraged, but it was music to the elf's ears. He smiled as he brushed dirt from the scabbard and turned to see the dragon maiden stride through the trees. Drinking in the sight of the fearsome dark haired beauty, he scoured his eyes upon her form for any signs of injury.

Elysia noticed his scrutiny of her forearm and huffed. "It is fine, Greenleaf. It shan't even scar." She then tossed one of her three apples to the elf. He caught it deftly and cocked a brow, glancing at the apple before looking back at the petite dragon. His heart gave a wild stutter when she smirked with that rare good-natured air, her eyes lively and bright.

"I said I would find you." The words were simple and smug, yet they brought a great flood of warmth through the tall wood elf.

Those eyes softened and gazed intensely upon Elysia, making her fidget and evade them. She curled a loose hair behind her ear and tossed her second apple to the dwarf not far from sight. Then she looked to Gandalf with a small exasperated sigh.

"It takes a good solid _half-hour_ to get a response out of the bloody tree." She shook the apple in her hand. "For _three apples_." She then took Faersing from Legolas with a curt nod and gave the elf a little nudge on the shoulder as she passed.

"You elves couldn't have taught the trees to be a little quicker?" She huffed as she accepted Silvindr from Gimli and began to strap the two swords to her hip, tossing her last apple to Aragorn.

The trees began to groan and moan in protest, causing the dwarf to jerk and raise his axe defensively. Elysia glared at the branches while Gandalf glared at the dwarf.

"Oh stop your fretting." She snapped.

"Stop your fretting, master dwarf!" Gandalf snapped at Gimli.

Aragorn and Legolas glanced at each other before staring back at the father and daughter. They did not appear abashed in the slightest that they spoke simultaneously. Elysia simply folded her arms and tilted her head.

"Are you certain Merry and Pippin will be fine?" She inquired the wizard. Gandalf simply threw on his gray cloak and began to walk in haste.

"Yes, yes, Merry and Pippin are quite safe." He then turned over his shoulder with a smile. "In fact, they are _far_ safer than _any of you_ are about to be."

Elysia simply huffed, blowing hair from her eyes before she began to follow after the wizard, leaving the elf, man, and dwarf to follow in a little loss of sense.

"Why do I sense that the hobbits are like pebbles falling into still waters?" She deadpanned as she walked by her old master's side.

"I'd rather say they are small stones that will start an avalanche in a mountain, my dear dragon." Gandalf continued.

Aragorn frowned while Legolas smiled in amusement.

"They both speak in riddles." The ranger mused.

They exited the dark forest and Gandalf looked to the great plains and released a long whistle. Not long after his call, a majestic white horse bare of any rider or saddle, came galloping into view. Legolas parted his lips and gazed in amazement.

"That is one of the mearas… Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

Gandalf smiled. "Shadowfax… Lord of all horses. He has been my friend through many dangers." He stroked the white steed's neck while Elysia gave the horse a curt bow, which it returned. She then grimaced and turned to the other two steeds.

"You are not to fly or transform at any time in Edoras unless the need is dire." Gandalf stated curtly without looking from Shadowfax. Elysia's shoulders sank as she gave the wizard a light glare.

"I dislike horseback." She huffed before giving the mearas royalty a sheepish look. "I mean no offense, Shadowfax, but a dragon… on horseback…" The sound of the action itself was absolutely ridiculous. Shadowfax gave her a snort and the dragon simply rolled her eyes.

"Always been a lousy rider." She grumbled. "No fault of mine if horses are not fond of drakes."

Gandalf gave Elysia a snide glance. "I doubt the men of Edoras would be rather fond of a dragon swooping into their land either."

Behind them, the dwarf glanced up at the elf and promptly ribbed the Prince of Mirkwood before he cleared his throat.

"I ride with Aragorn." He announced gruffly before trudging up to the smirking ranger. Aragorn helped the dwarf up on the chestnut steed, leaving Legolas to look to Elysia.

"You can ride with me." He leapt upon the white stallion and reached out his hand for her to take. Upon some hesitance, Legolas gave her an assuring smile. "Come, Elysia."

When he said her name, the dragon visibly eased and simply gave a sigh of defeat before she grabbed his hand. With a nimble leap, she was behind the elf. She stiffened and held herself close to him when the horse began to whicker uneasily, sensing the drake's daunting aura. Legolas gently patted the horse and began to murmur soft elvish words to the steed. It soon calmed under his gentle touch and Elysia sighed. She glanced at Gimli and Aragorn to find them staring at them with amused smirks.

"What?" She demanded with a scowl.

Aragorn simply chuckled and shook his head while Gimli was more vocal as always.

"The lass can fly, fight, spit fire, tackle balrogs, hear the unheard, sense the unseen, and do many things amongst many other things…. And ye can't ride a _horse_."

Elysia's scowl darkened. "I can _fly_, Gimli. Why would I ever need to perch myself on some hooved creature? And I _can_ ride a horse!" She cried indignantly.

Gandalf gave a snort as he leapt upon Shadowfax. "Must I remind you of the incidents with Thorin's company when-"

"Just ride." She snapped, glaring from her place behind the elf.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: The Changing Tides

They rode far through the plains of Rohan all the way into the night. The band containing an elf, a man, a dwarf, a dragon, and a wizard took rest near the trees and brush on a spot that looked out to the great gap of Rohan with an eagle eye view. Elysia gazed at the dark thundering orange horizon, grave pools of storm gray focused on the haze clouding above Mordor's black peaks.

"It resembles the skies that day…" She spoke with a toneless whisper, aloof yet sad. "That day upon the Eyrie…"

The wizard remained silent, but his hand patted her shoulder. The dragon turned to the white Istari.

"Gandalf… I do not think I can be concealed any longer… Saruman suspects something."

Mithrandir nodded. "As does Sauron." He admitted. "The time shall soon come for the Alliance's hidden card to be played. The puzzles have been coming together since Erebor, my dear drake."

Both of them knew they could not keep Elysia and her kind concealed any longer. If the time was to come and the tides were to turn, the alliance must unite, and it is impossible for the races to unite with the dragons in forging a greater alliance if they don't even know of their _existence_. Soon the dragons must play a stronger part in this war, but Elysia had the keen sensation that they already were.

"Mordor is gathering forces as we speak… What says they do not have their own 'hidden card'? I have the hunch that the serpent sent by Saruman shan't be the last." she mused darkly.

"Then it is unto you the alliance must put their faith in." Gandalf smiled sagely at the dragon. Elysia gave him a doubtful glance, but he merely continued. "You have always known what to do with the time given to you, Elysia… I do not doubt your judgment for you tend to make the right choices when it comes to the greater good picture… Even if the choices are difficult. When the time comes, you will know what must be done…." He then huffed. "Don't give me that glare, young lady. Even I have not the slightest in ideas what exactly fate has in store for you, but I am confident that it shall be something great."

The dragon sighed and her eyes became lidded with thought. "I never wanted the _great_, Mithrandir. I am fine with seeking and living with the good."

"Which is exactly why…" He smiled proudly at the dragon. "… you shall do something _great_, my dear dragon."

Elysia gave a halfhearted snort and retreated to tend to the campfire. Not long in her leave did Aragorn come and take her place. He glanced over his back at the dragon as she made the flames a little stronger and covered the sleeping dwarf with her own cloak, keeping out the chill will two layers of blankets. Legolas saw this and smiled while the dragon sat and leaned against a rock, sighing in mild weariness.

Aragorn turned back to give the wizard a small smile.

"You raised your daughter well. She is an honorable being." He praised. Gandalf softened at the words and leaned against his staff.

"Elysia has always strived to do good." Gandalf confirmed with a sliver of pride. "The dragons have always been more susceptible to the darkness of the enemy for their blood runs thick with magic. That power within them is the very reason why they show such weakness; hence many have fallen under the dark spell and blackened the name of the dragons." He tilted his head and gazed at Aragorn with an intuitive edge akin to his daughter.

"She does not allow the past and the prejudices against her kind to define who she is and determine what she does…. And neither should you, heir of Númenor."

The ranger's eyes grew tight at this and turned away, for Aragorn could not meet the wizard's gaze at the rising sensation of shame and discontent with the line of Isildur.

"You look tired."

The deep melodious voice of the elf captured her ears. Elysia glanced up as Legolas shifted and moved with grace as he sat next to the dragon maiden.

"I have yet to fully recover after the poison." She admitted truthfully. "But it is of no great peril."

Legolas nodded and they lapsed into silence. Elysia breathed in the elf's comforting musk and was content in doing so until a thought grazed her mind.

"… How fairs your father, King Thranduil?" She asked curiously.

The Woodland Prince turned and tilted his head curiously. "My father?.. He is well." Why was she wondering about his father?

"Does he always reside in that kingdom of his?" She inquired. Legolas gave her a halfhearted smirk and nodded. The smirk faltered as he gazed at the dark haired woman. She shifted with a small sigh and moved her braid to one side. Grimacing at the small twigs and light tangles in her braid, she untied the old leather cord bounding the hair at the end and began to undo the weave.

The elf stared as she began to quickly pluck and comb at the curls. Unable to resist, he reached and gently touched the hand weaving roughly through the hair.

"May I?" He asked. Elysia swore it sounded a little desperate, but brushed the odd thought aside. Why on earth would he be desirous of working with her hair? It wasn't as though elves had a fetish of some sort for it. So she simply gave him a nod and freed her grip on the wavy locks.

Secretly thrilled, Legolas touched the soft elegant curls with the gentlest of cares. His deft hands tenderly wove through the black, marveling at its silken texture and thick strength. He gently picked out the few twigs and leafs stuck in the less noticeable spots.

Elysia grimaced in a little chagrin in having the dirty hair groomed by the elven prince. She hadn't had sufficient time to tend to her hygiene since she awoke from her comatose state.

But Legolas did not seem to mind, perhaps elves were really obsessed with the hair, for he even began to comb up her now disentangled hair—even playing with the dark ringlets—and started to weave the hair in a braid.

Elysia wondered if she should angle her head more away, but then Legolas guided her with a gentle touch of her jaw and angled her a little towards the side, focused in his braiding.

"… I have always wondered… Since that time you came to Mirkwood-" he began, but she interrupted.

"If you are going to ask _again_ whether I am infatuated with your father, must I remind you how well that went?" Elysia deadpanned.

Legolas chuckled almost sheepishly as he continued to deftly move his hands through her hair. The vehemence of her "no" had been so astounding that Thranduil was rather offended. The memory had been of great embarrassment for Legolas and Elysia, although many were highly amused.

"I actually wanted to inquire you upon knowing my father… How did you meet ada?"

Elysia stilled and Legolas almost feared that he yanked to hard or perhaps he pried too much. But the dragon simply side glanced curiously.

"Thranduil has never told you?"

"He was vague…" Legolas admitted. "Very vague… All he told me was that you saved his life."

Elysia frowned and appeared even more confused. "... He said that?" Her voice was softer, more distant.

The prince nodded and the dragon gave a soft snort. "Your father is a better man than many would believe." She mused mildly before a wistful smile grew on her face.

"Your father is wrong…" Her statement made Legolas freeze in his braiding. He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"It was the other way around… Legolas, your father saved me." Her eyes grew distant as she thought back to that pivotal moment. Legolas waited for her to elaborate, hoping she would not be vague like Thranduil was.

"I was there when Thranduil faced the great serpents of the north." She began and Legolas began braiding once more. "When Vraiel and I escaped the Eyrie… We were still hunted… Eventually we were captured and I thought it would be our end. Our cages were being transferred when I met your father… He found me captive and did something unexpected… he _freed_ me… From that deed alone, I shall forever be in your father's debt. Without his help, I would not be here…" Her voice was quiet.

"I would not have been in that cave for my father to find me… I would have never known who my sire was… Your father gave me a chance to live, and I can never be grateful enough for that."

"But he said you saved him." Legolas added as he plucked the leather cord from her hand and began to tie his work.

Elysia waved her hand. "When he freed me, he was about to be killed by one of the drakes holding me captive. The least I could do was pull him out to a safer area before I went back for Vraiel and escape." She frowned guiltily. "Unfortunately your father did not make it out unscathed… I thought King Thranduil would resent me for that…"

"You saved his life…" Legolas repeated. "If you had not, I would not be here with you."

"Yes… There is that odd sense of fate." Elysia mused softly. The elf smiled. Did the dragon think this meeting to be fate? It was an endearing and encouraging thought that the Valar destined their paths to cross.

He released his finished work, allowing Elysia to turn and gaze at the hairstyle. It was a simple but pristinely done side braid. The loose strands of hair framing her face seemed to compliment the braid. Elysia looked up and smiled at Legolas in thanks before she leaned to her more comforting position against the rock. She let the side braid flop to her shoulder and began to play with the curly tail at its end. When she let it fall back to rest upon her clavicle, Legolas plucked it gently and gazed softly at the hair tip.

A moment of silence lapsed until the prince spoke.

"… The past… It is behind us, is it not?" He frowned in remembering the uncouth and rather hostile first encounter.

"Where is the past if not behind?" Elysia remarked before she snorted. "If you're referring to our unfortunate first circumstances, I never truly held much of a grudge against you."

Legolas turned to stare at her, his eyes penetrating her to a little unease.

"Then why did you avoid me so, for the first few weeks of our journey since Rivendell?" he inquired. It was a question he had long been pondering since they've journeyed.

Elysia frowned and quirked a brow, for it sounded as though it was a long time coming, having bothered the elf's mind ever since. He watched the frown and the brow straighten. She appeared hesitant, then sheepish, and then a small flush rose to her cheeks. Elysia turned away with a grimace of discomfort. Her innards began to writhe unpleasantly in the anxiety of remembering the _true _reason behind her avoiding of him, and in fact, the avoiding of Mirkwood altogether since the quest for Erebor was done and the Battle of the Five Armies ended.

Legolas almost sighed when he saw the walls beginning to rise once more.

"Elysia."

The look of discomfort turned into a sharp glare at the elf. The glare demanded he stop his prying as Elysia promptly yanked her hair from his grasp.

"It's nothing." She muttered, and found herself irked at the slight look he gave him and quickly retorted. "Yes, I am aware I am lousy at lying, but that is the only answer you are going to get, Woodland prince."

The dragon maiden then stood up and began to stride off. Legolas was torn whether to follow or let the sudden flare cool and deflate. A pointed glance from Aragorn advised him on the latter. The elf sat back with a little sigh. He had a heavy weighted dread that he just broke their fragile but harmonious relationship.

...

Elysia cursed her asperity as she began to head towards the most unlikely company. She stood next to a certain majestic white steed and folded her arms with a huff. Shadowfax glanced at her with one large eye and whickered.

"It's complicated." She deadpanned.

Shadowfax simply snorted and began to graze the lush grass while the dragon pondered deeply in whatever troubled thoughts she had.

There was a reason why Elysia's mind began to build up thick walls whenever she thought of the prince or when his presence was near, the same reason why she had been avoiding Mirkwood and him whenever possible. The reason had been lost in the haze of battle, adventure, and absolute chaos when she arrived in Rivendell, and he unexpectedly joined the fellowship. Now the reason was coming back like a great slap in the face or an arrow to the chest, and she was back to attempting to stifle the frustrating sentiments of hers that revolved around the pointy eared woodland prince.

Elysia's sharp mind always had difficulty and always grappled with the concept of romantic love. Perhaps that was why she always remained aloof from reciprocating any courting done to her. She had the inkling that Sapphira was always a mate hard to win less because of her high standards and pride but more because the woman was also rather unskilled in romance. Her mother had simply shuffled her wings and said, "When you first meet your heart's half, you simply _know_. It strikes you like lightning."

That hardly seemed romantic. Lightning wasn't a very pleasant feeling.

But to Elysia's surprise, it did indeed come to her like lightning, or in her case, when she gazed at lightning blue eyes. When she first encountered the prince, upon entering Mirkwood—unintentionally setting fire to a small part of the forest—and the instant their eyes locked. His presence struck her core like lightning upon a tree and set fire to her thoughts. Even when her mind battled against the sensation with logic and denial, her heart and spirit grasped upon him. From the moment Elysia met the Prince of Mirkwood, she knew something was destined between them.

Or so she thought…

It had been an internal war the majority—including the Mirkwood prince—never knew went on. He had unintentionally ripped her to two. As her heart and spirit yearned for him, what she saw and knew with her mind and senses diminished hopes and any courage to attempt pursuing the feelings. The situation and the newfound emotions at that time were some of the most unpleasant and undeniably _awkward_ sensations she had ever experienced; for when she thought she found her "heart's half" as her kin would call it, her heart's half was fond of someone else.

When she had found herself feeling strong emotions… _love_ towards Legolas, the elf was pining after his fearsome fiery haired comrade, Tauriel.

Perhaps she had been too quick to discourage following the "connection" in her soul and core, but the entire situation had been savagely disheartening. Elysia could fiercely deny it, but Legolas had unintentionally wounded her heart. Her calculative mode also dispirited any will to pursuit Legolas as a lover/mate/husband. If anything, Tauriel was a more appropriate candidate to become the elf's significant other. At least Tauriel was of the same species… Although the Silvan showed no reciprocation of Legolas's affections—a bitter irony—nothing was ever set in stone. Elysia thought that perhaps if time went on, the pair would share a mutual affection and happily couple themselves with an unbreakable romantic bond that all elves forged with their lovers.

She harshly suppressed any yearning feelings she had for the prince and barricaded them under lock and key in the deepest dungeons of her mind palace. It helped to avoid Mirkwood entirely after and settle herself in the Shire, silently coping with the sudden frustrating heartbreak. As time passed and the feelings remained suppressed and controlled with Elysia's iron willed composure, the feelings _seemed_ to fade. She supposed then that her mother had been wrong. There could always be another "heart's half" for the future was not set in stone, could there not?

But of course, it was foolish to hope that Sapphira Brightscales would ever be wrong.

However, Elysia was the epitome of resilience. If there ever was a second time she would encounter the prince, she was determined not to feel the lightning if feel anything at all.

It was the first time in years since she saw the elf, and the moment he gazed at her, no matter how much she denied it, she felt that twinge of pain. But even quicker than the "lightning" she forced down her ironclad will and suppressed all emotions. A morbid apathy had swept over the dragon, but she was desperately determined to not feel that painful stab at her chest again. Fortune did not smile upon her love life, for her first experience with the bittersweet concept left her discouraged and without a doubt traumatized. Her strong draconian pride had been wounded and crippled.

And yet... Fate continued to be cruel. Legolas joined the fellowship and for the strangest reason, he began to pursue her for attention, desirous of her friendship. The barrier around was slowly beginning to chip with every moment his presence was near, every word from those fetching lips, every glance of those captivating soulful blue eyes, and she found herself unwillingly uneasy. She prided herself in composure, and held it up for very long, but it was beginning to wane. She did not want to yearn for his presence and scent. She hated feeling that strange prickle in her heart and the heat rush through her body. Elysia loathed how she seemed to be acute to his existence, and involuntarily noticed the smallest of things and gestures: the tilt of the head, the cock of the brow, the small mild curve of his lips... The list could go on...

By no means did she despise or resent Legolas. His lighter person was refreshing and soothing, and he was completely unaware of the great internal struggle writhing within the dragon. It was not his intention to capture her heart and maim it so.

Elysia released a frustrated hiss, causing Shadowfax to jerk up his head and glance at her as though she had grown two heads. The dragon simply glared at the mearas royalty.

"What are you looking at?" She grumbled. "Go back to chewing on the ground."

The lord of all horses almost appeared snide. Shadowfax gave a snort. The dragon's anger quelled and she began to wallow in misery, muttering a soft apology before she gazed tiredly at the dark horizon.

The horse blinked and stared at the forlorn dragon. Releasing a soft whicker, Shadowfax nudged her. Elysia absently patted his neck and leaned against the soft white mane.

"…. Love is cruel."

The horse snorted.

"I have not the slightest clue what I should do… What should I do?" She confided in the king steed.

Shadowfax blinked then gave a soft neigh.

"I do not speak horse." She deadpanned.

Another snort….

Elysia scowled and threw her hands up in the air before she sat upon a rock near the horse's front.

"Marvelous. I am confiding in a _horse_ on my atrocious romantic life." She grumbled and curled herself into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

Shadowfax nudged and snorted at her hair. The dragon grimaced and shook herself. Her side braid swayed gently in the movement, causing her to freeze mid-shake. She stared down at the pristine braid and held it between her forefinger and thumb as though it were something alien. Elysia wanted to tug her hair loose. Rid the mark of the prince's work on her hair.

But when she stared at the neat little bow knot of her leather cord, the intent faltered. She released yet another long and tired sigh and set the braid on its side once more. Resting her chin on her knees, she stared at the darkness for a moment longer before closing her eyes and succumbing to much needed sleep.

...

Legolas was frustrated; frustrated and hopelessly confused. He didn't know whether to be angered at himself or at the dragon's sudden ice. Perhaps it was a bit of both. After years of thinking of her, ever since she left Mirkwood, fate had finally given him the chance to see her and to be with her. That day in Rivendell was when Legolas thought fortune smiled upon him. Whatever growing affections he thought he bore for Tauriel began to diminish when he encountered Elysia. Tauriel would always be a cherished friend, and he realized that is the way it should remain. But with Elysia, there was something else about this dragon. He was frustrated with himself upon not grasping this earlier. He was in fierce denial then, scorned whatever he felt for it was delusional to think that an elf would ever feel such way for a _dragon_. But then she slipped out of his grasp after she departed and Thorin's company disbanded. Then he realized his mind was not swaying from her. He felt... _empty_ when she departed.

And now the Mirkwood prince had the chance to rekindle the spark and fan the flames, but the dragon hardly even glanced his way since Rivendell. He was patient, and his patience won in peeling back the many layers of barrier around Elysia; only for him to once again have her stonewall him all because he attempted to pry at the reason for her blatant avoidance. She seemed to tense up every time they came upon the subject of her behavior towards him. If she wasn't angry for the accidental shot, the initial hostility, imprisonment, then what made her so distant?

Legolas sighed. After eons of living and gaining far more wisdom than the common man, he felt like an utter clueless fool.

Seeing no avail in his brooding, he stood up and decided to confide in the one who bore the greatest amount of wisdom out of their odd band. The elf quietly approached Gandalf who was finishing whatever words of advice he spoke to Aragorn.

"Gandalf…" Legolas began. "… I acquire your wisdom." He then turned to Aragorn. "And yours as well."

Aragorn appeared startled. "Mine?" What wisdom could a three thousand and something year old elven princeling need from a raggedy ranger?

"You have more experience upon the matter." Legolas admitted.

Gandalf blinked and then a slow and rather sly smirk came up his face. "If you are referring to approaching my daughter with your affections…"

Aragorn's eyes widened as it dawned on him. His elf friend was coming to them for _romantic_ advice…?

"It is as though she hates me… Or is repelled by me." Legolas admitted with a little exasperation. "And in all my years I cannot understand it… When she arrived at Mirkwood, she bore interest in me. Now it is the contrary... To gain her friendship on this journey was harder than wrestling with spiders."

Even the raggedy ranger was not blind to this. The first few weeks of the fellowship's mobilization, Elysia was more frigid with Legolas than anyone else.

"And now you are back to square one…?" Gandalf finished. Legolas nodded while Aragorn frowned.

"She came to your kingdom..." Aragorn knew very little of what transpired between them or how they met.

Gandalf answered for the elf. "Why yes… On the quest for Erebor. Elysia enlightened me on the encounter. I can't say it was the most civil of first impressions, but you certainly made an impression upon her." He mused.

Legolas frowned. "Yes, well our circumstances did not exactly allow much civility."

"… Did you perhaps say anything to make her shut you down?" Gandalf inquired. "Elysia can be a bit of a frightful turtle."

"I merely asked why she avoided me so strongly before."

Gandalf blinked and then simply looked as though he solved a small puzzle. He turned and stared at the horizon with a nod.

"Ah…" And then he chuckled. "So much like her mother."

The comprehension was not shared.

"Gandalf?" The wizard was speaking in riddles again. Legolas was unable to hold back a light sigh while Aragorn cocked his head and analyzed his friend.

"… _You are growing fond of her."_ He muttered in elvish.

Legolas frowned. _"She is like a tree in my mind… Once a sapling, now her roots dig deep into my heart and the tree continues to grow."_ Aragorn blinked and appeared mildly startled by the blatant and poetic confession.

Mithrandir glanced at Legolas and smiled softly. "You are falling in love with her…" He propped his staff and leaned against it with a sigh.

"An elf prince and a dragon… my daughter no less… How curious…" He mused softly to himself before turning to the two males with a slight twinkle.

"You know, when I first met her mother… Her courting behavior was most peculiar and rather arduous." He chuckled at the two puzzled looks.

"All those times I thought she desired to kill me and to think she was merely clueless to her want in my affections… Heh." He then tilted his head. "Elysia and her mother are alike in the sense that more delicate emotions never come easy."

"Delicacy does not strike me as one of the dragon's qualities." Muttered Aragorn.

Legolas finally released a small huff of a laugh but sobered quickly from his amusement. "What am I to do, Estel?" He asked a little helplessly.

"… Do you desire more from Elysia than friendship?" Aragorn inquired.

"I have not felt this strongly for anyone else. Not even Tauriel." Legolas admitted.

"Then be honest in your pursuit." Gandalf stated. "Elysia is perceptively sharp, but when it comes to dragons and the more delicate matters of romance… Especially my daughter, it does not come easy. She is very adept in suppressing emotions, although I fear it is not the healthiest of habits."

"I fearI have made the shields return." Legolas sighed. Aragorn gave the elf a sympathetic pat before chuckling.

"You have quite the taste in women, my friend." He commented with great amusement.

000

Much to Legolas's dread, the tension lingered between them in the early morn. The walls returned, and Elysia began to distance herself with stoicism once again. Aragorn and Gimli made no comment when she began to ride behind the ranger. Gandalf simply huffed and rode on Shadowfax. Legolas said nothing as Gimli jumped and struggled onto the white steed. They began to ride off to Edoras, soon to reach the place by midday.

Gimli glanced at Elysia riding with Aragorn and looked at Legolas.

"Did you say something to the lass?" He inquired. "You were perfectly cozy with her yesterday…"

"I fear that I am hopeless." Legolas muttered, barely audible over the galloping horse.

Gimli chuckled. "Tough break, lad. Not every woman will pine after a pointy eared princeling."

The tension did not ease as they neared Edoras. Elysia could sense the hidden shadow of poison looming in the horse village. Some form of parasitic magic dwelled in the Hall of Meduseld where King Théoden lay. They entered the wooden walls and the horses slowed to a trot. The villagers looked upon them with hopeless glazed eyes.

"You would find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli grumbled as they passed the forlorn crowd.

Elysia's eyes fell upon a woman looking down upon them from the main hall. She was a sad fair image of despair as her golden waves billowed with the wind. She turned away to gaze at the children looking as grim as the adults. A small frown made its way to her lips. Perhaps she spent too much time with hobbit younglings, but children should not look so forlorn and grim.

They came down from their horses and made their way up the stairs. The guards stopped them before they entered.

"Ah." Gandalf pretended to be of good cheer.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Grayhame by order of… Grima Wormtongue." The name left the guard as though it were poison.

Gandalf looked to his small group, and the warriors relented. Legolas began to hand his precious bow and quiver. He unsheathed his dual blades with a swift fluid motion and handed them to another guard with a flat smile. Aragorn handed his sword and daggers, Gimli his axes. The guards gazed at the petite fair woman of the group. She glared at them with lidded eyes, scowling mildly, and handed them Silvindr, her throwing blades, curved dagger, and when she began to hand them Faersing—with extreme reluctance—her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Do not touch the handle." Her words were short but firm. The guards took one look at those piercing grayed eyes and did not argue. They gingerly held Faersing by the scabbard. Gandalf managed to deviously allow his "walking stick" to be tolerated, giving a wink to his band. Elysia simply cocked a brow, and they entered into the Hall of Meduseld.

The dragon's mind quickly began to assess every person in the hall, calculating every formidable guard and armed man. Her piercing gaze zeroed in on an oily looking man of sickly pallid complexion crouched next to the king like a parasite. King Théoden himself appeared to be sickly. Sickly was an understatement for his appearance. Elysia took one look at the man and was repulsed. The very air around Théoden was woven with a toxic aura of magic. His eyes were milky, and his appearance was deteriorated with age. This man did not look like a king. He looked like a wrinkled goblin mutant who has not seen a healthy dose of the day's light.

Men were gathering at the edge. Like crouching wargs, they appeared ready to lunge at the outnumbered foes. Elysia appeared stoic and indifferent, undeterred like the others of her company.

Gandalf walked, ignoring by the growing tension of the hall. "The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late Théoden King." his voice echoed through the royal room.

Grima Wormtongue began to whisper words into Théoden's ear. His glassy eyes suddenly locked on Elysia and raked her figure; lingering upon the statuesque body, admiring the striking beauty with a small lick of his lips. The lustful look was not missed by the Mirkwood Prince. His eyes narrowed dangerously at the smarmy man groveling near the sickly king. Even without the tightening of his fists and the dark scowl, the one glare alone was warning enough.

"Why… should I welcome you?... Gandalf Stormcrow?" The voice made Elysia cringe inwardly. It was raspy as though his throat was filled with dust.

The greasy insect was coming, more outspoken now. Grima Wormtongue rose from his spot next to the king.

"Late is the hour in which this conjuror chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him, ill news is an ill guest…" He glanced towards the fair dark haired maiden near Gandalf. It took her a moment to notice the pale glassy eyes, and when she did she seethed at his shameless perusal over her body.

"Though…" A slimy smile made its way to his pale lips. "Not all guests are ill." He stepped forward towards Elysia, but Gandalf blocked his path with a wrathful glare.

"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth." He snarled. "I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crude words with a witless worm." He brandished his staff, and that was when the tension unleashed chaos with one fell snap.

Grima backed away, terror filling his eyes. "His staff… I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He demanded in frustration at the guards' crucial mistake.

Elysia moved as though she were made of thin air. She dodged a man attempting to grab her and kicked under his feet. Tripping the first, she grabbed the hand grasping her shoulder and tossed another full grown, burly guard over her lithe frame. Her easy display of strength spread unease through the men. She walked over the fallen guards with an air of dangerous indifference, following Gandalf as he approached Théoden. Realizing a careful approach was futile, a two guardsman charged to tackle the woman. It went against the code of chivalry but it must be done.

The dragon gazed at the approach with even eyes. Then she moved to the side and sent a hard kick at the man's legs, tripping one before singlehandedly shoving back the other. Her palm struck the other's armored chest. The guard's eyes widened as he flew back at the impact, bouncing off as though he were a ball while Elysia remained unmoving. The man slid back several meters, looking stunned.

The last went down with a little more chance. He aimed a punch at Elysia, but deft hands caught the punch as the dragon stepped forward. Hand on his chest and leg hooking under his knees; she shoved him, slamming him to the ground with a solid thud.

Once again she moved forward.

Grima Wormtongue looked about frantically and began to run. He managed to slither out of Gimli's grasp. There was no way out, unless he fought. But then Grima spotted the raven haired maiden and found his exit card. He yanked out his hidden dagger and lunged, wrapping his arm around her neck he held her back to his front and brandished the dagger against her neck.

Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas moved forward. Gandalf however, looked unconcerned, more focused with Théoden. Grima pushed the blade closer to the woman's neck, who suddenly grew still. She was probably frozen with fear…

"Stay away!" He barked as he glared at them. They did, and a small smug smirk grew upon his thin lips. Wormtongue held the woman closer, grazing his head against hers. He smirked wider as the elf's glare turned mutinous when he traced the crook of her shoulder and inhaled her scent, caressing her warm neck with his nose.

"My, my…. You smell _enticing_…" He hissed. The elf and dwarf must have heard as well for a dark murderous aura emanated from them. "So warm as well…" His eyes glazed over the males, particularly the elf. Elysia grabbed the man's wrists, but Wormtongue held the dagger closer, chuckling at her feeble attempt. Did she not know men were always stronger than women?

His glee grew when she shuddered at his chuckle. "I bet they would do anything to protect you…" He purred. "Especially the elf." Her hair was so soft…

Gimli took one glance at Elysia's face and immediately his anger diminished. The dwarf suddenly stood a little smug, gazing snidely at the royal advisor.

"I would let the lass go if I were you…" he warned.

Grima sneered. "Don't patronize me, dwarf… Don't think I won't cut this damsel's neck."

His hostage suddenly spoke, growing even stiller.

"You are mistaken, Wormtongue." Even her voice sounded enthralling. Grima's sneer turned into a smirk, only for it to falter upon her low growl.

"Thinking that I need them to protect ME." She snarled the last words. Her hand flexed.

A loud muffled snap was followed by an agonized cry. Elysia's grip on his armed hand turned brutal. With a quick twist and jerk of her grasp, she snapped his wrist as though it were a mere twig. The dagger slipped from his feeble grasp, landing on the floor with a small clang.

The dragon turned to face the pain contorted face of Grima Wormtongue. Her eyes taking on a savage gleam, her second hand gripped him by the jaw with bone crushing pressure. He released a muffled yell of agony as she continued to apply merciless pressure on his crippled hand, ramming him against the wall. His eyes widened as his feet left the ground.

"I will cut out that tongue… And _geld _you. Your screams will fill these halls as you are castrated of your pathetic manhood and ripped of the one wretched thing that gives you power." Her voice was cold. There was no bluff in her words. She would do it.

Her grip on his jaw tightened for emphasis. Grima released a broken cry, and his eyes began to water. He dare did not writhe as she stared at him with great contempt. Elysia released the slimy creature and did not look back as she began walking away. Grima whimpered, nursing his broken hand and glared piteously at the brutal woman. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the dagger and slowly Wormtongue began to crawl. Biting his lip, he reached with his good hand.

A foot landed on his forearm. Grima uttered a baleful cry as his arm threatened to break. Looking up, he quailed at the furious gaze of the elf. Legolas leaned down.

"If you so much as look her way… I will gouge out your eyes."

Grima feared the elf would break his other hand, but Legolas was not as cruel as the dragon. The elf simply kicked the dagger away and left Gimli to growl at the oily advisor.

"I would stay still if I were you."

When Elysia returned to stand behind Gandalf, the wizard was already in a deep mental battle with the traitorous Istari. Théoden writhed in his throne and gave the white wizard a loathsome glare.

"If I go... Théoden dies!" Saruman snarled.

Gandalf raised his staff. "You could not kill me, and you will not kill him." He said with powerful confidence. Saruman/Théoden was shoved back against the throne. Milky eyes raged as they glared at Gandalf.

"Rohan is MINE!" The milky eyes then swept to the figure behind the new white wizard. He stared at the woman with onyx curls and those silvered eyes.

"You…" He hissed.

The dragon faltered in her hard composure, allowing surprise to flicker through her features. Théoden… no, Saruman was looking straight at her. He stared at her almost hungrily. It brought shivers down the dragon's spine.

Gandalf moved forward, blocking Elysia from Saruman's sight. "Begone!"

With a whack of his staff, Gandalf expelled Saruman's hold upon King Théoden. The fair golden haired maiden rushed to the king. His aged appearance began to recede, and Elysia found herself gazing at an enfeebled but proud king. He drew his sword with an air of renewed vigor, but it soon turned ominous. Théoden's eyes turned murderous upon focusing on Wormtongue.

Elysia stared on coldly as the guards tossed Wormtongue onto the cobblestone stairs. He rolled down and fell with a pained moan, clutching his broken wrist to his chest. She would have been content to toss him herself, but the dragon found it repugnant to lay a finger on the greasy thing. Her desire to bathe rose tenfold when she came into contact with Grima's filthy presence.

She watched as Aragorn urged Théoden to have mercy, snorting softly to herself. She would not have hesitated to break his neck if Aragorn did not wish for blood. The former advisor spat at Aragorn's show of mercy, causing the dragon to growl low in her throat at his ungratefulness. While Wormtongue ran like the coward he was, Théoden turned and scoured the crowd for his son.

000

_Death is a sad thing._ Elysia mused to herself as she bathed quietly in the hot wooden tub. It was especially sad when the child dies before the sire, for no mother or father should have to bury their own child. She released a sigh and submerged herself in the water. With the invigorating heat peeling away the dirt and easing the tension in her muscles, it was sorely tempting to stay in the tub for another hour or so until the water became cold. But now was not the time for such self-indulgence. Chaos was coming. The signs were in the heavens, earth, and life all around her. And... she had a funeral to attend.

The dragon lifted herself from the water and breathed in the solemn air. Steam curled away from the pale surface of her skin. Stepping out of the tub, she wrung out her hair and wrapped a large cloth around her form. Perusing through her clothes, she blinked in mild surprise at the minor change of upper wear. Her inner black tunic was discarded, for its sleeve was torn beyond mend and stained with blood. In its place was a silvered green tunic. She rubbed the material between her fingers, confirming the elven quality.

The curious gaze turned soft when she realized whom the shirt belonged to.

A soft knock came at the door, followed by the voice of the shield maiden.

"May I come in?" Eowyn inquired.

"Yes." Elyisa was tying her black trousers in place.

Chest bindings kept her breast concealed, but Eowyn was able to see the toned fibers of muscle ripple on her slender frame. There was little softness in the flexible build. The dark haired woman developed to be a fighter with fierce independence.

Eowyn's gaze lingered on the jagged line on her bicep and the old wound on her forearm. Elysia noticed this and simply wiped the excess water from her body before she pulled Legolas's tunic over her form.

"The scar is from a Morgul blade." She answered the unspoken question. Eowyn appeared surprise by her sudden response. She bowed her head a little demurely.

"Forgive me if I…"

"I take no offense." Elysia deadpanned. "I can understand your curiosity. I am not the conventional delicate maiden who takes care into her body's appeal. Little time for that luxury."

She began to wear the Lothlórien dark gray outer garb over the tunic. Eowyn could not help but admire her self-handling. She was a woman who wore scars with proud apathy, undiminished by the discrimination of women. Noticing the slight points of her ears, Eowyn's admiration turned into envy. So this woman was a she-elf. It was no wonder. The gender discrimination in the fair-folk was nonexistent in comparison to the race of men.

When Elysia readjusted her belt and yanked up her boots, she gazed at the maiden. She wore a dress of black, with hair braided back, crowned with a circlet of gold. Her eyes held little hope or joy as she wore a tentative smile. The sight was sad but beautiful.

"Neither are you the conventional delicate maiden, Eowyn of Rohan." Eowyn's eyes widened. Elysia assessed her evenly with an unfathomable expression.

The shield maiden faltered. Her eyes glistened with frustrating tears.

"Yet I cannot seem to retain my grief…" She whispered to herself. Eowyn did not know why she was struggling not to cry in front of this maiden. Something about the woman and her eyes made her wish to kneel down and sob.

The dragon sighed and began to walk pass her, but she stopped when their shoulder's touched. With a soft pat of the grieving shield-maiden's shoulder, Elysia whispered.

"It takes more courage to accept the grief than any form of suppression." Elysia departed with those words, leaving Eowyn to hastily wipe her years and follow to attend the funeral.

Elysia remained deathly quiet as she stood next to Gimli. She watched as the people grieved for the heir, but it was the agony in Théoden's eyes that made her truly feel the sorrow. The king looked as though a part of him died. She watched as the tomb was sealed, listened to the lamentation, and muttered a small parting word to the tomb, saddened by the untimely death of the son. The townspeople returned within the safety of the wooden walls while Gandalf waited for Théoden. Elysia waited and her eyes lingered upon the mellow children. They did not play or run around their parents. Even the younger ones too small to understand death appeared miserable.

She stood from afar for the White Wizard as he consoled the grieving king. Not wishing to simply watch the king as he wept, she scoured her eyes through the plains of Rohan. Her survey stopped at the sight of a horse in the distance. Two figures were on the horse, two children, one boy and one small girl. Elysia finally found her breath when the boy began to close his eyes and slowly slumped off the horse. She leapt into a run, sprinting like a gazelle towards the horse. Kneeling down near the boy, she scooped him up in her arms before gently grabbing the horse's reins. The girl appeared frightened, tears welling up in her eyes.

"What happened, child?" Elysia's voice held a gentle tenor, easing the girl's anxiety.

"The village…" She hiccupped. "T-the village… They burned it."

...

Elysia waited patiently in the throne room near the children. Eowyn tended to them as they devoured the bread and soup. Her face was impassive but there was fire in her pale gaze.

"They had no warning… They were unarmed." She forced through gritted teeth.

Eowyn stroked the girl's head and stood, enraged as much as the dragon. "Now the Wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."

The girl looked up, dismayed. "Where is mama?" She cried. Eowyn shushed her while Théoden looked all the more distraught by the news. His new advisor sat in all of his white wisdom, grave and sincere. Gandalf urged him to tackle Saruman head on, but the king appeared doubtful. His doubt morphed into frustration as he paced around his hall. Aragorn attempted to reason with him, but Theoden wouldn't hear it. Elysia's eyes narrowed at his disdain upon Aragorn's words. He will not "risk open war"? Was he a blind blithering idiot? Was Saruman still in control of him? His land is being raped by the white hand. Aragorn was right. Open war was upon Rohan whether the King denied it or not. The grief of losing his son has stripped the man of confidence. He was being a fool in ignoring Gandalf's heed. When the King made his verdict upon their fate, Elysia was silenced by dread.

000

The village was gathering what they could. Elysia walked beside Gandalf as he stormed to the barn.

"Helm's Deep?!" He snarled. Elysia was more silent and brooding in her irritation.

"They flee to the mountains when they should stand up and fight." She said neutrally. Gandalf gave a grunt in agreement.

"Who will defend them if not their King?" He questioned gravely as they entered the barn. Aragorn looked to them with reluctant empathy for Théoden.

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

Elysia gave Aragorn a sharp glance, her words cold and calculating. "There is no way out of that ravine. Théoden believes he leads them into safety, but he is walking into a trap. They'll be sheep for the slaughter, corralled and cornered for the wolves to devour."

They stopped at Shadowfax. Elysia turned to Gandalf with a pressing gaze.

"Gandalf, I can find Eomer faster than any of us." She said pointedly. But Gandalf shook his head, causing the dragon to scowl.

"The time will come when the card must be unveiled, but it is not now." Mithrandir stated. "Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. And you, Elysia. You must help hold the defenses of Helm's Deep."

Elysia opened her mouth to argue but Gandalf placed an imploring hand upon her shoulder.

"Saruman knows enough to sense there is greater power in Rohan now… And it is not I. Should he lay siege upon Helm's Deep, I fear he shall bring something to combat that power. He is preparing something… Something foul and powerful. Rohan _must_ fall, and Saruman will stop at nothing to see its end."

The dragon eventually relented under the desperately imploring stare. She grimaced and backed away with a nod.

"I trust your judgment."

Aragorn gave her a sympathetic pat before he nodded to Gandalf. "They will hold." He assured.

Gandalf leapt upon Shadowfax and gazed at them. "Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east." With that he left, urging Shadowfax to run out of the stable.

000

Legolas waited patiently against a pillar, holding his quiver almost nervously as he waited upon a certain dragon. The door opened with a small bang as Elysia strode out with her usual stoic air of calm. Her rucksack dangled from her grip while she sheathed her swords. Counting to three quickly in his head, Legolas stepped from his spot.

"Elysia." He felt a pang when the maiden stiffened. She did not look to him, tempted to keep walking.

"Elysia…" His tone was gentler, and she cursed her feet for being glued to the ground by his sudden tone. Legolas came up to her with a rather desperate air.

"Please, Elysia." She refused to look into those blue eyes, fearing her resistance might wane. Not again will he peel away her careful barricade. The elf sighed and hesitantly placed a calloused yet gentle hand on her cheek.

"Elysia, please." He managed to gingerly guide her face to gaze at him. They were hard and unfathomable, wounding his heart further. "Mellonim, please forgive me. I did not mean to pry or upset you." Legolas was as sincere as he could be, and the dragon knew it.

The hardness in her eyes began to flicker, but whatever hope Legolas had, began to wane when she strayed from his touch.

"It is not your fault." Her words were true, confusing the elf. Then why was she upset?

"It… was never your fault." She spoke in naught but a whisper. "Forgive me…. I have treated you so crassly, Prince Greenleaf."

Legolas's fingers curled and fell against his side. "Elysia…" _No, stop…_ She wanted him to stop saying her name. Every time her name spilled from his lips, it was like the sea beating against the rock, eroding it wave after wave. He was crumbling away her shield, her will to suppress those infuriating reaches of her soul calling out for his presence.

While Legolas did not see this, he did see that there was a rift between them. "It would aggrieve me to have you treat me as a stranger. I would rather have you uncouth to me than to ignore me all together. Are we not friends?"

His sincerity was always smooth and fluid, while her honesty held brutality. A small frown escaped her as she released a small sigh.

"Friends…" She repeated that phrase with bittersweet sorrow. "Yes… We are friends." _And nothing more_… "And that is how it should be. Nothing more and nothing less, I suppose."

Unbeknownst to her, the words were like a knife through his chest. Legolas kept his composure albeit it took much effort to do so. But those crystalline eyes could not hide the grief at her words.

Elysia did not spare a glance at those eyes, so she did not see. She focused on his chest, the leaf clasp of Lorien, the taut lines on his neck.

Yes…. They were indeed friends. Elysia could not be cruel to him and herself by restricting that bond. Yet, ironically, she _was being _cruel, for she was twisting the shard long lodged in her heart. But the pain was something she must bear and relish. It was best to accept the friendship of her heart's half that to attempt in severing the thread completely. The thread was indestructible, and after all the grueling obstacles the fellowship overcame, she could not cast that aside.

So the thread would remain, but Elysia was determined to not allow any fortification of this thread. She smiled flatly at Legolas, having somewhat resolved her inner war.

"After all… We cannot have a repeat of Mirkwood. I am a dragon and you are an elf." Her eyes widened as she realized she spoke the words aloud. Panicked, Elysia snapped up to stare at elf's face, disregarding her previous determination not to. The hope was crushed as the panic spiraled, for Legolas appeared equally surprised. He heard her sudden musing, staring at her with confusion.

"What is that-"

Elysia immediately pivoted on her heel and almost ran out of the hall. Legolas was glued to the ground, too startled and too deep in his thoughts to pursue the woman.

What repeat? What happened in Mirkwood that Elysia feared would occur again?

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: In the Path

Elysia did not mind walking with the rest of the women and children. The armed men rode their steeds with a slow and steady pace as the crowd moved along the path to Helm's Deep. She and Legolas served as sharper lookouts, occasionally straying away from the group to scout the surrounding lands. Speaking of the Mirkwood prince, there was an undeniable strain more so than ever in their relationship, but this time Elysia did not shun him. No, she treated him as she had done since Lothlórien. He was a friend, and she smirked and countered his cheer with sarcasm and her usual nonchalance. Still, as usual, it was he who had to approach her to receive this. Not once did she instigate their conversations or encounters.

There still remained a rift, but Legolas found himself a step closer to solving a puzzle upon the identity of this gap. If he could define the gap, perhaps he could build the bridge to cross it.

He watched as a small child gently tugged Elysia's braid. The dragon glanced behind her and a warm smirk grew on her face as the child handed her a white flower. She knelt down eye level to the child, lips moving with the gentlest of gray in those eyes. The child seemed to grow excited and nodded furiously. Elysia then closed the flower in her fist and kissed the closed fist's knuckles. Rising up to stand, she opened her fist and gently tossed. A rain of petals and sparkles began to fall in a spiral. Peals of laughter escaped from the child as she clapped and squealed. A few more children gathered in amazement. Some adults gave the woman fearful looks while others smiled at the seldom look of joy in their children.

A smile made its way to Legolas as Elysia closed her fist once more and then opened them with a gently flick. A blue violet popped from her hand. The girl grasped the violet as though it were something precious and quickly ran to show her mother. The dragon tilted her head and smiled before she departed to scout. Legolas's smile faded when the folks who witnessed the odd magic sighed in relief at her departure and whispered amongst themselves with suspicious glances at the woman. Why were some humans so fearful of something or someone so different? Could they not see that this difference in the form of a maiden was special and beautiful?

...

They stopped near a lake. The wary glances of the adults did not go unnoticed to the dragon. She seldom really minded their opinions as she sat on a rock near Aragorn, ignoring the stares and looks cast her way. Legolas was off taking her place as a scout. Gimli was going off to find a decent meal.

Faersing was in her hand; its pommel and handle being polished fervently and rather unnecessarily excessively. It was a nervous habit she acquired when she felt bothered by a thought buzzing in her mind like a wild and excited bee that demanded attention. Aragorn glanced at Elysia as he cleaned his sword as well. The ranger assessed the dragon carefully before he spoke, noticing her taught shoulders and the tense atmosphere between her and a certain pointy eared male as of late.

"What attracts your interest in a man?" he asked.

Elysia stopped her polishing and stared at the ranger with a cocked brow.

"… What brought you this subtle question, raggedy ranger?"

Aragorn smirked. "Curiosity. The Rohan riders have glanced your way more than once, yet you have not seemed to bother yourself to look twice at any of them. It makes one think…"

Elysia frowned. "Has it occurred to you they glance because it is a little odd? They find a woman bearing such arms, preforming small bits of magic, known as once an apprentice of a powerful wizard a little off putting and too unorthodox for their liking."

The ranger raised a brow. "Or… Perhaps it is because you are attractive and the men are not blind to that blatant fact."

The dragon released a snort, hiding her small chagrin. She returned to polishing.

"You flatter me, raggedy ranger…. If you must know, I do not truly have a solid preference." …Because her heart was already taken, but she left that particular fact out.

"Do you have a mate with your kind?" He frowned, puzzled.

Elysia grimaced, looking incredulous. "Goodness no! Honestly, Aragorn. You'd think I'd have mentioned it by now if I have a lover." Aragorn chuckled and pressed with a glance.

"My kinsmen are very loose with their mating practices, but if we find that _one_ truly destined to be our heart's half… We stay with them for life." But then Elysia rolled her shoulders with a nonchalant huff. "But I have never found the joy in loveless mating. My positions throughout time never really gave opportunity for romance…. But whether my heart's half is dwarf, man, dragon…. Or an elf, it matters not because they are my heart's half, are they not?"

The dragon then chuckled with an air of bitterness.

"I lived the lifetime of more than a hundred men, and here I sit with a raggedy ranger with more experience."

Aragorn looked up from his sword and stared keenly at Elysia. Perhaps it's best to be frank with his comrade.

"… What of Legolas?"

Faersing's pommel winked as Elysia gripped it tightly. She snapped her head to glare at Aragorn.

"What of him? Why? Do you think something went on between us?" Her questions fired rapidly. The ranger fought the urge to chuckle and looked pointedly at the dragon. Elysia grimaced and faltered with a sigh.

"Is it apparent?" Her voice sounded a little miserable.

Aragorn gave a soft snort and remarked gently. "We faced many great challenges with each other, Elysia. Give this raggedy but keen ranger some credit."

She almost pouted. "Am I that obvious?" She mused bitterly.

The ranger blinked and tilted his head. Was _she_ obvious? With what? It was obvious that _Legolas_ was pining after her in his own discreet way. Aragorn had been friends with the elf long enough to know of his affections. He had been referring to the obviousness of the Woodland prince's affections...

Then the realization dawned upon the ranger. He stared at Elysia with new light as the pieces began to fit snugly together to create the big picture.

"… You are in love with him." He stated, hushed at the revelation. Recalling Gandalf's words of Elysia's tactless tendencies, he saw the situation with more clarity.

The way she reacted upon Legolas in the beginning, her avoidance of him at first, then her sudden intimacy almost as if she needed his companionship, and then again the avoidance. It was clearer now, as though she was struggling to push away the elf like a thirsty man fighting the urge to drink. He knew the sensation of this paradox. It was a personal struggle for him to love an immortal maiden.

"You've met each other before all of this…" He stated, continuing to deduce. "You've been in love with him since Mirkwood." Elysia's eyes told him everything. The dragon blinked and looked away a little sheepishly, angry with herself.

"I am not _in love_ with him. I have never fallen in love." That was a flat and crystal clear lie. Before Aragorn could share his thoughts on the pathetic lie, Elysia continued with a hint of defeat.

"I know its a lie... But should I keep saying that... Should I keep thinking that lie, perhaps it will turn into the truth... It seemed to have worked until now..."

Aragorn looked skeptical. "Truly? It seems as though you are merely deceiving yourself... And you are doing a poor job of it."

Her jaws were tight, and she turned away and glared at her pommel. "It happened very long ago. Those sentiments have passed."

"Sentiments?" If only she could see the exasperation in Aragorn's face. "You have only suppressed them…. And in vain, so it seems. Your heart yearns…"

"Bah." She began to wipe down Faersing with more fury. "What would you know of my heart, raggedy ranger?"

"Elysia…"

"He is an elf… One of noble blood, no less." Elysia turned her glare upon the ranger; frustration and pain raw in her eyes. "And I am a _dragon_." She hissed the last words. The ranger scowled at her self-demeaning. It was unlike Elysia to lack so much confidence in her being.

"You are the daughter of the wisest Istari." Aragorn added fiercely before he sobered into a somber gaze. "… Legolas does not know…"

"And he will never know." She gazed imploringly at the ranger.

"You are hurting him." Aragorn pressed.

Elysia scoffed. "I am his friend. That is how it remains, and the elf is content with that. There is no hurt for him upon this matter." Aragorn opened his mouth but Elysia cut him off with biting words.

"Enough, Aragorn… The right is not yours to lecture me upon the position of my heart, when you obviously struggle with yours and blatantly have broken Arwen's."

Pain flashed in his eyes at the mention of Arwen. Elysia almost regretted it, but she was too irritated to care. Arwen was her friend as well, and the ranger hurt her in an attempt to be "noble".

"You are a fool to think she would sail west upon your urging." She hissed before scoffing once more, returning to polish her sword's handle.

"Males are such fools…" She continued. "And to think we place our hearts in the hand of fools." Her mood had taken on a foul turn. The dragon readied herself to leave his company; shoving her rag into her rucksack and grabbing Faersing's scabbard. But before she could stand or Aragorn could stop her, Eowyn came to them with a pot of stew.

She smiled nervously at them. "I made some stew. It isn't much but it's hot." The dragon blinked at the kind shield maiden. The wind began to waft the scent of the stew, and she sniffed curiously.

Aragorn noticed Elysia stiffen as her nose twitched, but the shield maiden appeared too earnest for him to deny her kindness. With a hesitant smile, he gave her a nod. The shield maiden appeared jovial at this.

There was only one bowl, and Elysia was _not_ going to be the first to try. Aragorn accepted the bowl and spoon with a smile and took a spoonful into his mouth.

The dragon cringed inwardly as the ranger froze. If the raggedy survivalist ranger could not eat it, how bad was it?

Aragorn appeared a little strained as he swallowed. Elysia internally applauded his bravery as he looked up and smiled.

"It's good."

Eowyn's face brightened and Elysia could not blame the raggedy ranger for his lack of integrity.

"Really?" The shield maiden said in relief. Aragorn nodded.

Eowyn turned and as soon as she turned, Aragorn grimaced and began to pour out the stew…. Only for the shield maiden to turn around again with the intent to inquire about something. Without thinking of the consequences, Aragorn pushed the bowl into Elysia's hand. By reflex, the dragon caught the scalding hot stew, not minding the heat as it spilled around her fingers. She grimaced and glared at Aragorn who quickly took back his hand, but with Eowyn's attention on them once more, she masked her glare into nonchalance. So it merely appeared as though Aragorn was sharing the stew, seeing that there was only one bowl.

Eowyn's smile returned when Aragorn encouraged Elysia with a "kind" smile and gesture.

"Try some. It's good." he insisted.

Elysia's smile looked mildly contorted. She glanced at Eowyn and her resolve faltered at the innocence of her joy. The dragon took a hesitant spoonful into her mouth.

It took all of Aragorn's self-control not to laugh or cringe as the dragon grew rigid. Her muscles were taut, jaws were tight, but she managed to swallow the concoction. The instant her tongue met the liquid, Elysia felt something inside scream out in despair and call out to Samwise Gamgee. She missed that gardener's cooking now more than ever.

Aragorn's amusement soon turned to sympathy, seeing that Eowyn would not leave so that Elysia could dump the concoction. The dragon looked as though she were in genuine torment when he saw her face, hidden by her bangs.

"My uncle told me a strange thing." Eowyn stated. Aragorn turned to listen, leaving Elysia to her suffering.

"He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken." Eowyn shook her head. Aragorn smiled and confirmed this. Elysia continued to suffer.

She took another forsaken bite, as little of a spoonful as possible. This "stew" was indeed a formidable opponent. It was quite something to make a _dragon_ revolted by the taste. She wasn't picky with her food; after all she even ate raw meat. But his "stew"... It would make the greatest of her race despair.

Then, as though the heavens heard her prayers, an angel in the form of a child came to save her. The girl handed her a clean cloth bundle which she took with a curious smile.

"From my mama, milady." She then gave a small curtsy and left the dragon with the bundle. There were a few strips of salted pork and some bread warmed by the fire all wrapped in the bundle. The dragon could have kissed the girl and blessed her for her kindness.

Eowyn departed after Aragorn enlightened her upon his actual age of 87. The ranger turned as the dragon immediately dumped the rest of the concoction onto the dirt and unraveled the bundle of food. She gave him a mutinous glare before biting down on a strip of pork and tearing bread. She chewed furiously in hopes of expelling the awful taste from her mouth.

Aragorn looked pointedly at the bread and pork. He then glanced at Elysia and blinked several times. Elysia wanted to sneer. Was this ranger _batting his eyelashes_?

The dragon glared again before snorting softly and handing him a portion of her meal. Silence hung in the air as the ranger took the food. They munched quietly in tense silence until the ranger swallowed and spoke.

"We're alright?" He asked gruffly.

Elysia swallowed her bread before responding. "Yeah. We're fine. But my stomach is not." She shuddered and the ranger chuckled.

"I shan't get the taste out of my mouth." He confessed. Elysia could only nod. "If all else fails, feed Mordor's evil that concoction. It'll surely down the toughest of trolls."

000

She ran ahead of the herd, sharp eyes scouring the lands, ears and nose keen. Hama and Gamling accompanied her, their horses galloping easily along with the strange woman. Elysia frowned as she inhaled the air. Legolas was on another high ground a few yards away. The dragon turned to the elf with a meaningful grimace. The air seemed clean, but she could not tell for the wind was blowing from them not towards.

Gamling and Hama went on ahead while Elysia ran to Legolas's platform.

"What is it?" Legolas asked while Elysia looked around.

The dragon's frown grew darker. "Something is watching us…. I could've sworn I smelled dogs of some sort." She then turned to Hama and Gamling who were wandering further. The dragon sighed in aggravation.

"Let's ignore my warnings because I am a woman. Did I not say not to wander too astray?" She then marched off to speak to the two riders, leaving Legolas to give her a smirk.

Elysia leapt down onto lower ground just as her ears caught a savage snarl. Then the howling cries of fear jumpstarted her run. She leapt over the steep decline like a gazelle, meeting the sight of a violent scuffle between an oversized hyena and Hama.

_Warg and a rider... a scout._ Elysia yanked out her falchion and deliberately heaved it. Silvindr whirled through the air before sinking into the warg's neck. The massive hound released a faint cry and toppled over; its rider struggling to stand and brandish his sword. The dragon was too quick for the orc. With a quick swipe of her arm, she threw a blade into the orc's neck, slicing its windpipe and jugular.

Legolas came just in time to see the dragon finish off the warg rider and grimaced. He turned to Aragorn who was running to the commotion.

"A scout!"

Aragorn began to run back at this news, sounding the alarm. Théoden called his riders to battle as the people of Edoras began to panic and hold each other close. Elysia kicked aside the dog carcass as she reclaimed her falchion. The dragon did not bother to return with the others and ran ahead to intercept the scouts. Legolas joined her, drawing his arrow.

"Legolas, something is different." Elysia spoke in a rush as she sniffed the air. "They aren't just wargs and orcs."

"A dragon?" Legolas hissed. There was another serpent?

She hissed. "… Saruman did something to it."

They stopped at a high boulder. Wargs began to spill from the hilltops, ridden by orcs. Legolas began to kill off as many scouts as he could with his deadly range.

They turned at the coming of the Rohan riders. Legolas grabbed the reins of the white steed and swung himself aboard with Gimli. Aragorn reached down for Elysia and swung her to his backside.

"Be on your guard. Saruman has conjured something." Elysia warned. She crouched low on the saddle, balancing herself as she gripped Silvindr tightly.

Théoden called the riders to charge. Aragorn raised his sword with the others and urged his horse forward. Just before the two forces collided, Elysia threw Silvindr and leapt. The falchion stabbed into an orc's chest but did not remain lodged for long. Elysia performed a neat flip as she soared over the scout. Grabbing Silvindr she landed neatly on the ground and sliced the forepaw of an incoming warg. Reaching towards her other sword, she drew Faersing from her hip and leaned back to dodge a scout's swipe at her head. Pivoting sharply, she sliced at the warg's hamstring, throwing the rider off after his failed beheading attempt.

Some horses were without riders, warriors began running about slaying whatever orc or warg they could find, Théoden continued to ride valiantly and fight on horseback.

Elysia did not bother to look over her shoulder as she flipped her blades into reverse grip and stabbed at another warg lunging at her back. There was a loud yelp as the hound fell, leaving its rider to be decapitated by Faersing.

An orc threw its axe at her with a guttural squeal. The dragon snarled back, catching the weapon and throwing it back with greater force. The axe struck the orc's warg, splitting its skull and leaving the orc to jolt out of his steed and break its neck on the ground.

The battle was interrupted by a loud guttural roar, too loud to come from any warg or orc. The fighting stopped briefly. Riders of Rohan and orc scouts alike all looked to the great hill as the earth trembled beneath them. Sharp black claws snagged the rocks of the hilltop. Digging deep into the ground, the claws uprooted the boulders as the creature leapt over the hill with vicious fervor. It resembled an armored dog. Its hide was made of large black jagged plates, scratched and chipped but no less weak. The reptilian head was plated and large, harnessed with reins for there was a massive Uruk-hai riding atop the creature. Thin red eyes gleamed from the head. Sharp slit-like nostrils hissed out black smoke. Claws raked the dirt eagerly as a thick strong tail lashed back and forth.

The Uruk-hai released a roar and raised his cleaver, urging his draconian steed forward. The dragon was built to _run. _It rampaged like a pull and plowed over two riders, warg and horse, with its broad armored chest. Burly legs pushed it forward as it charged into the battle field on a collision course for Théoden.

Warg's and their riders began to cheer at their trump card. Rohan's riders looked horrified.

"My King!" Hama cried.

Théoden raised his sword, his lips curling into a sneer. If he should die now, he refused to die a coward. But before the king could commit a suicidal act and meet the terrifying beast head on, something blue tackled the reptilian steed.

The wingless reptile gave a grating snarl of anger as it was interrupted from its course. The Uruk-kai was flung from its back at the sheer force of the collision. When it landed on the ground, Legolas finished the Uruk-kai with a single arrow to the neck.

The blue drake snarled as she and the massive armored reptile tumbled down the slope. With a heave and shove of her fours, she shoved the beast against the jagged rocks before straightening herself with a hiss. The earth rumbled as it struck the rock. A little dazed, it tumbled over the slope before it also landed on all fours. The two dragons glared at each other and snarled.

The Rohan riders did not know what to think. Where did this blue drake come from? The warg scouts appeared equally stunned. The brief pause ended when Gimli threw an axe at another orc and yelled.

"That's the spirit, lass!" He cried, lifting his axe as he cheered the blue dragon. Théoden turned, stunned, as he looked at the dwarf.

"Lady Elysia?" He asked.

Gimli bashed a warg's skull before roaring. "Yes! Now don't just stand there! RAH!" He slammed his axe into another orc's chest.

The riders of Rohan found themselves renewed with great vigor. With a powerful being by their side, they also began to fight with greater ferocity. Battle cries echoed the field as the riders began to fight harder than ever.

Legolas fired an arrow at a warg attempting to bite Elysia's neck. He began to clear any interruptions, leaving the dragon to handle the black reptile.

Elysia bared her teeth as the wingless armored drake released a column of smoke from its nostrils as warning. It tore off its harness and began snapping its jaws at her.

"_**Get out of my way, windwalker."**_ It snarled warningly.

"_**Not a chance, landroamer."**_ Elysia saw the madness in those sharp red eyes. It was a madness she saw in many other dragons fallen to the shadow.

The two dragons began circling each other; tails twitching, claws stabbing the earth. The armored drake growled low and flicked out a forked tongue.

"_**You walk a path towards death…" **_ It growled. _**"It is never too late to change it…. Join the master… He is generous… He is kind… You can rebuild your clan-"**_

"_**Silence, worthless wyrm."**_ Elysia snarled. _**"You sound like a mangy cur licking its master's boots…." **_The armored drake hissed at this and she continued mockingly. _**"You let yourself be harnessed and rode by one of **_**them**_**. You've lost all dignity."**_

"_**Lies! Worthless lies!"**_ The black drake snarled.

Elysia released a snort. _**"You cannot lie in our language, dirt treader. Halt this madness!"**_ She knew it was worthless. To argue with one lost to the shadow was vainer than screaming at a statue. She would know, she had done it many times.

"_**I will end you of your misery and shame, kinsman."**_ Her voice grew solemn as she stopped growling. She stared at the armored drake with grim eyes.

The dragon was burlier than her, much stockier, built to run and fight on the land. It snarled and tackled her. Elysia rolled onto her back and heaved, throwing its heavy form off before she whipped her powerful tail and smacked its head. It was like hitting solid rock.

Legolas fired at the dragon's eyes, but it jerked its head, repelling the arrow with a thick cheek plate. Inhaling deeply, it turned to Théoden and his horsemen, finishing off their foes.

Elysia moved, quick as cat, and stoop in front of the king and his men as the black drake hurled a stream of flame. The men yelled and the horses screamed, but the dragon stayed firm. She raised her massive wings and dug her claws into the ground. With a powerful thrust of her wings, she sent a powerful gale, deflecting the flame. Then with a great hiss, she spat out a massive blue bolt. The men raised their hands and covered their face as a gust of heat swept through them. The blast exploded with a warping boom, knocking the black drake to its side. Its chest and neck steamed aglow with searing blue plasma lingering from her shot. Shaking off its daze, the black drake released a roar.

Its thick plated hide minimized the damage of Elysia's blast. She had to think quick as the drake began to charge like a rampaging bull. With its fireproof hide, her blasts were proven futile. This drake is smarter than the last and did not have combusting saliva. No arrow or spear or any other regular blade can pierce that armored surface…

… But Faersing can.

An idea struck Elysia on a whim. It was a mad thought, but perhaps... perhaps it just might work. There was little time to hesitate and contemplate. She had to do something.

_Fight fire with fire, and scale with scale… _Elysia leapt into the air and soared over the drake, raking her claws over its eyes as she flew above it. The dragon released a howl and writhed around in agony.

Elysia landed on the ground, behind the drake. Behind her was a large boulder she hoped would suffice. With a roar, she fired another bolt at the dragon's back. The drake toppled over, nearly crushing Théoden as the king urged his forces away. After regaining its bearing, it snarled and snapped wildly, pivoting to face its back, towards the sapphire dragon.

Legolas's eyes widened at the cloud of blue scales. Elysia shifted and shrunk to her humanoid form and stood there with a doubtful but determined look. She drew Faersing from her side and stepped back until her back was against the boulder.

Time seemed to slow.

The black dragon dug its claws into the earth, like a bull stomping its feet and lunged forward. Unbeknownst to it, the dragon was now a petite looking woman. Legolas felt terror surge through him as Elysia swallowed hard and pointed Faersing forward. The dragon dwarfed her like this. She hardly seemed to stand a chance. Was she insane?

"Elysia!" He cried as he ran towards her, but even the elf was not swift enough to do anything for the maiden. Elysia did not seem to hear him. She was too focused in her thoughts

_Remember that spell, remember that spell, remember that spell.…_

It was ten paces away.

_By the scales of the Eldest, Elly Walkins you are a LUNATIC! _

Elysia raged in her head. Faersing began to crackle a lively lightening hue, humming with energy of her desperately focused magic. She placed one firm foot on the rock and pushed forward. Gritting her teeth with precise aim, she shoved Faersing into the incoming drake. The blue sword impaled in-between the chest plates of the drake, dead center. The blade sank into the thick flesh, but before she could deepen the impalement, Elysia crashed back against the rock with a yelp as the land roamer tackled her with crushing force.

Jaws dropped and a mixture of cries and gasps filled the air. Legolas's own lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breathe as the massive armored wingless dragon rammed against the boulder with Elysia smack in the middle. The massive plated reptile covered her from his sight.

The earth quaked at the sheer impact of the dragon, releasing a thunderous boom. Dirt stirred up from its charge hung in the air like a dusty fog. Suddenly, a low keeling moan filled their ears. The armored reptile began to move oddly, flopping its tail and arms feebly as though it was electrocuted before it slumped down and remained against the rock. An eerie silence remained as the beast became still. The cloud of dirt began to clear and the defenders of Rohan began to gather.

"Is it dead?" Hama asked as he walked around the thick tail.

Legolas immediately ran towards the dead dragon's front. Gimli followed with a huff.

"Elysia! Lass?!" The dwarf called. There was no answer. The elf's heart stuttered in terror. Gimli stopped with a small gasp. "Oh no…"

When he reached the boulder, the elf found his voice. "Elysia? Mellonim? Elly?" Legolas panicked as he leapt over the massive forepaw of the black carcass. Nearing the point of contact, he spotted a small gap between the chest and the boulder. He finally reached the rock and shoved himself against it. His heart feared what he would see. Would he see Elysia crushed, lifeless against the rock with her gore smeared against the boulder? The thought made him nauseated.

"Elysia…?" He called again. The dirt cleared, and he stared into the gap.

What he saw nearly made him laugh in relief, but he was too startled. Legolas blinked a few times and stared at the memorable sight.

Elysia coughed, spitting out dust as she wriggled in her odd position. Her entire body lied flat against the boulder. Enlarged bright argent blued eyes blinked several times and stared at the massive black plates of the dragon's chest a mere centimeter from her face. Her chest grazed the scales while her lower half body was stuck in the crevasse of the dragon's chest and the boulder. She released a sigh of sheer relief as she realized her plan as work. Turning to look at her side—a bit of a struggle—she stared at her trusty longsword. It was buried in the dragon's chest by the very hilt, horizontal to the ground. Faersing's pommel was against the boulder's surface. The rock held a slight crack where the pommel's pressure was too great, but the sapphire winked, not even scratched by the pressuring ordeal.

The sword was the only thing that prevented the dragon from fully ramming against the boulder and flattening the dragon maiden. Elysia managed to impale the dragon's heart, dead center, and the dragon did the rest and smashed its chest into Faersing, deepening the lethal wound to guarantee fatality.

"Faersing, my love… You are magnificent." She almost laughed. The dragon looked up at the elf and attempted to wave. He looked stunned beyond compare and simply stared at her.

"H-hey… Legolas…" She gave him a small tentative smirk. "So… Uh…"

The elf simply leaned his head against the rock and sighed.

"Elysia, mellonim… Why do you do this to me?" He chuckled halfheartedly, completely drained but relieved, his palm on his furrows.

Elysia huffed with a snide face. "It's not as if I intend to nearly be smeared against a rock by a five ton armored dragon." She deadpanned.

"What? What's going on?" Gimli came squeezing his face into view. He took one look at the dragon and her sword and began to roar in laughter.

"AHAHAHAHA! That's our lass! You scaly rascal! You nearly frightened the elf out of him!" He nudged Legolas with an elbow.

"Yes well, I am very glad you find my near death experience very amusing." She sighed as she wriggled, only for her movements to be futile. The dragon growled irritably.

"Legolas, Gimli…. A little help? I'm stuck." She shoved at the dragon, but it was impossible with the narrow gap to even make the carcass budge.

Legolas looked up and down at the massive obstacle and began to climb the rift between the scales and the rock. Gimli hollered for every able man to come. The men slowly came, even Théoden who appeared stunned at the sight in the small gap. The men soon began to organize themselves. Some grabbed the tail while others were at the gap.

The elf managed to squeeze himself into the gap, feet against the slain dragon. Théoden grabbed a ridge of the chest scale and called to his men.

"On my count! One, two, three-" They heaved with all their might.

With the strength of all the men, a dwarf, an elf, and the dragon stuck between, the carcass slowly began to move. Eventually, the black dragon began to lean to the left. The men quickly cleared as it landed with a large thud on its side. Legolas leapt down from his point as Elysia stood and dusted herself off.

She rubbed her back with a small grimace while Legolas came forward.

"Ugh, that's definitely leaving a brui-" She was silenced by a solid chest as the elf embraced her. Legolas's grip was firm yet gentle. He held her as close as he possibly could without hurting her, dipping his head to press his cheek against her hair, for he was still a good head and a half taller.

Gimli blinked and coughed, looking away from the affectionate scene before him.

Elysia went stiff for a few moments, but her body began to ease at his tender embrace. She found herself struggling not to reach and wrap her arms around him as well.

"Legolas…"

At the sound of her voice, the elf broke the embrace, much to her disappointment. He held her arms distance and gave her a once over with his eyes. Elysia's stiff discomfort diminished into concern as she gazed upon the elf's face. His forehead was slightly furrowed, jaws were tight, and his eyes held an anxious edge. He appeared relieved, distressed, and pained all at once.

Without thinking, the dragon reached up and placed a hand against his head. Her thumb softly grazed the indent on his head, smoothing back the furrow of his worry. Legolas blinked and stared at the dragon as she gazed at him with a tender expression.

"I'm fine." Her voice was soft and assuring. Legolas fought the urge to lean into her hand. When she let it rest against her side, he found himself craving the warmth.

The moment didn't last. Elysia looked around Legolas and began to frown. The elf and dwarf was here. Where was the raggedy ranger?

"Where is Aragorn?" She asked.

Legolas dropped his grip on her upper arms and whirled his head about. The furrow was back as he realized Aragorn was amiss. Elysia quickly went to retrieve Faersing as Gimli and Legolas looked about. Grimacing, she put a foot against the carcass and yanked out her blade. It took several tries before Faersing came out.

Without bothering to clean the blood, she quickly ran about looking for the raggedy ranger.

"Aragorn!" Gimli called. Théoden began to gather the rest of his men while the three remaining warriors of the fellowship sought their man. Elysia quickly took the lead, following her nose as she caught the faint scent of the ranger. They stopped near a cliff. Elysia looked over the edge as a cackle from a dying orc caught the males' attentions.

"Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing!" Gimli raised his axe threateningly.

Elysia listened to the orc cackle as she crouched low against the cliff's edge. Her keen tracking sense caught the drag marks and distinct warg scent mingled with the ranger's. A few scrapes where claw dug unto rock ended at the cliff's edge. The earth and the air told her a horrifying story.

"… He took a little tumble off the cliff…" The orc's voice confirmed her fears.

"You lie!" Legolas snarled as the orc laughed, choking on blood before breathing no more. The elf spotted the Evenstar in the orc's filthy grasp. Looking aggrieved, he headed towards the cliff edge where Elysia was soon accompanied by Théoden.

The dragon continued to kneel as she stared down at the raging waters, her eyes indecipherable. Her stony silence gave away nothing of her rampantly running thoughts.

Théoden sheathed his sword with a sorrowful look.

"Get the wounded on horses… The wolves of Isengard will return…" After some hesitation, Theoden finished. "Leave the dead."

At his words, Legolas gazed at him with burning blue eyes. The king met his gaze evenly with a sympathetic air.

"Come." He urged.

Legolas said nothing, but a harsh voice snapped, answering for him.

"No." Elysia stood up, fire blazing in her eyes. She glared at the rushing river beneath them. Before Théoden could acknowledge her blatant refusal, she whipped her head around and pinned him with the stormy glare.

"I refuse to believe the raggedy ranger is dead. The orc lies." She hissed.

The king was brave enough to challenge the dragon. Standing his ground, Théoden glared at her.

"Do not be a fool, Lady Elysia. Come and join the rest." He demanded with all the authority of a king. Yet, his command only brought more edge in her gaze. She tilted her head; her pupils bore a slit-like quality.

"Is that your command, King Théoden of Rohan?" Her voice became dangerously monotonous.

Perhaps it was Théoden's pride that disallowed him to back down from the blatant challenge in his authority. "Yes it is. I stand by that command. What I will not stand for is your insolence." He growled.

Gimli bit his lip while Legolas simply appeared cold. He did nothing, because nothing was needed. Elysia did not need her razor sharp tongue to be backed up by her companions.

"That is simply marvelous of you." Her words were bitingly snide. "But you forget where _I_ stand, King Théoden. I am a _dragon_ and we answer to no king of man, elf, or dwarf."

Théoden did not retort her blatant defiance. He instead sighed and glared imploringly.

"I need your aid to protect my people, Lady Elysia. Will you allow others to meet the same fate as Lord Aragorn?" Perhaps it was not wise to aggravate a dragon. Even a king as strong as he could not tame such beast. Dragons were no horses.

"He. Is. Not. Dead!" She snarled so savagely that Théoden fought the urge to reach for his sword. Elysia growled in irritation and glared back at the waters.

"We are wasting time talking about this." She snapped and disappeared in a cloud of blue scales and light, leaping off the cliff. Théoden watched as the blue dragon spread her wings and shot upward. She took a sharp turn and darted forward, her sleek speedy form following the river's flow. Within seconds, she departed the silent group of males.

Gimli broke the tense silence with a snort.

"Don't worry. The lass will return. She may be a stubborn thing, but that scaly rascal's never wrong with a hunch." He then headed for the white steed standing afar. Théoden appeared a little speechless. Legolas simply gave him a nod, looking more lighthearted than before.

"It is a dragon thing." He stated before following Gimli to help him on the horse.

000

She flew low, weaving through the gorge as she went. Her eyes scoured the water for her friend, determined to fish him out. Her focus and efforts were rewarded as she spotted the ranger floating near the carcass of a warg. The dragon dived low and slowed to a hover over the water. With careful forelegs, she nudged the ranger to a pebbled shore. The warg carcass was caught in a tangle of rocks and branches nearby.

Elysia shifted and landed on the ground with two feet. Hooking her arms under his shoulders she dragged the man further away from the water. Careful with his head, she laid him on the grass and peered at his face. He appeared to be asleep... or dead... Her ears caught the shallow breathe escaping his lips. The sound was music to the dragon's ears. She sighed in relief and sat down, staring at the unconscious ranger.

She cocked her head and frowned thoughtfully. Then she reached and nudged the ranger.

"Aragorn…" She tapped his head. "Aragorn… Aragorn…" She prodded his cheek.

The dragon grew impatient. "Aragorn.."

Still no response. Not even a mumble or groan.

"Ranger…"

Nothing...

"Dunedain… OI!" She began tapping his cheek. Finally after some minor hesitation, she gave him a small slap.

A groan escaped the ranger but his eyes did not open. The dragon sighed and sat back on her haunches in exasperation. It was clear this man would not wake up anytime soon no matter how much she smacked him, and time was short. They could not dawdle on like this.

"Oh perfect… Must I really deal with this now?" She felt sore and battered from her collision with the black armored drake. Mustering a tired sigh, the dragon closed her eyes and began to focus. She began to kneel, and her hand hovered over the unconscious ranger's face.

"_Vakna_…"

Her palm glowed blue. The reaction was instantaneous. The ranger's eyes snapped open. Aragorn gasped sharply for air and sat up, only to groan in pain as his body screamed in protest. Elysia dropped her hand to her side, exhausted. They had no choice but to rest here for a good few hours or so.

"Oi, raggedy ranger… Keep still." She snapped as Aragorn laid back down and curled over his sore body.

"What happened?" He croaked, slowly moving his body, stretching his arms and rotating the shoulders. Every bone and muscle felt as though it took a beating.

Elysia glanced at him and huffed. "You took a little tumble off the cliff. When you regain your strength, we have to move." She then stood up and paced about, calculating their situation. The walk to Helm's Deep was risky and too long. With the state Aragorn was in, he would not be capable of such journey soon. That left her only one choice, to carry him.

She glanced at the ranger, assessing his size and weight. It would be tedious to carry him in her claw, and the prolonged flight would damage his shoulder. She could make it more comfortable by shifting to an even bigger size, but then she would be a beacon for the enemy, and the dragon was highly cynical that she would receive a pleasant welcome if she swooped upon the jumpy folk at Helm's Deep with wings that could blot out the sun.

That left one option the most viable. But the problem with having the ranger ride her was his grip. Aragorn hardly appeared strong to cling onto her as she flew, and her scales would grate his legs and peel off the trouser later and quite probably his skin.

Elysia looked about for something to use. Her eyes fell upon the warg carcass, more importantly the saddle on its back. She strode towards the furry body. Wading in the water, she grabbed the dead warg by the ear and began to pull it towards her. Grimacing at the repugnant smell of wet warg, she dragged the carcass onto shore.

Aragorn managed to sit up and stare at the dragon maiden as she began to loosen the straps of the harness on the warg.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn inquired.

Elysia gave him a small glare and continued to unbuckle the straps. Once she succeeded, she tossed the warg saddle next to the puzzled ranger. With sharp intuitive eyes, she assessed the saddle thoughtfully.

"Elysia?"

She did not look at him and squatted in her analysis. "We need to get to the fortress." she responded vaguely.

Aragorn blinked. The dragon became impatient. "You are in no condition to travel on foot, and if I carry you like a kitten for too long, I might break your shoulder or you might fall. Then where would we be." She smiled sardonically at him before returning to her thoughts.

The ranger's eyes widened as it dawned on him. He glanced back and forth from the saddle to the dragon.

"You mean for me to-"

"Yes." Elysia responded curtly. She was answered with silence. The dragon sighed and looked up. "If you're afraid of heights, then just close your eyes, raggedy ranger."

But Aragorn did not look at her with fear. He was staring in disbelief, as though he were awed. Elysia frowned and tilted her head.

"What?"

"You mean for me to ride you…" He stated slowly. "A _dragon_." The ranger felt _honored_ at the mere sound of the idea. Honored and a little horrified.

"Elysia, you are no steed."

Elysia felt warmth bloom in her chest. Although touched by Aragorn's valiance, it did not show. She raised a brow and smirked.

"Yes, well I am indeed not some mere mare you can dig your heels into and yank the reins of." She then gave a soft snort. "Don't let your honor bury your rationality, raggedy ranger. This option is most convenient…" She then bit her lip before speaking with a little more sincerity.

"You are my friend, Aragorn…. Besides… This is not the first time. Mithrandir had done it and even Bilbo did once." She then returned to analyze the saddle. Aragorn stared at her with soft eyes.

"… Thank you." He whispered.

Elysia did not look back up again. "Don't thank me yet, raggedy ranger." She then tilted her head and pouted thoughtfully. The warg saddle was meant to harness around the warg's neck and the ribcage. The seat pad was thin and small, meant for efficiency than any form of comfort. The front straps meant for the neck were also for the rider to grip, and there were loops on the back straps meant for footholds.

She held it up and tilted it back and forth once more before a structure developed in her mind. She sliced off the excess secondary straps and began to reposition the leather. Aragorn watched in tired wonder as she began to improvise with the warg saddle, loosening the straps of the neck loop and torso loop as far as they could go before tying a strip of leather under the saddle to connect the two loops. She then looked at Aragorn.

"Do you have strength to hang on?" At his nod, she bit her lip and began to unstrap her sword belt. She handed her belt and swords to Aragorn.

"It's better if you hold them. Should we meet anything unpleasant in the air, the magic of Faersing's scabbard should be capable of a minor shield. Strap it to your back."

Aragorn did as she ordered while Elysia slipped into the wide loop of the saddle. Positioning herself nervously in the loop, she held her breathe and closed her eyes. The shift came slower this time. Aragorn stood back as her wings and tail emerged and the cloud dissipated. A lithe dragon with the body size of a large wagon stood before him. Elysia shifted her upper bodily uneasily at the strange material wrapped around her form. The saddle was perched just at the nape of her neck. The thick leather straps were wrapped around her upper neck and managed to snake between her arm and her wing to wound around upper torso. Elysia shuffled her wings and turned back to assess her handy work.

"It's a little tight around the neck." She rotated her neck back and forth. "But it'll have to do."

Aragorn still stared a little dumbfounded at the dragon. Elysia glared at him impatiently and bared her teeth.

"Well?" She asked pointedly. Aragorn gave her a small smirk and after a moment of hesitation, he walked up and reached for the upper strap. The dragon lowered herself to ease the ranger's climb. He carefully sat upon the thin leather seat and swallowed hard as Elysia rose back up.

"Are you ready?" She asked almost excitedly. The dragon couldn't help it. It was an exciting thought to have her friend join her in one of the most thrilling experiences a dragon of the sky can have.

Aragorn didn't seem to share her excitement. He bit his lip and tucked his feet into the loops.

"Watch out for my spines." She warned.

The ranger nodded and carefully leaned forward. He gripped one of the ivory spines on her neck and the strap with his other hand, almost hugging the dragon.

Elysia snorted and shuffled her wings. Aragorn fought the urge to cringe as her massive wings began to unfurl and her tailfin began to shift.

"Hang on tight!" She leapt into the air and with a few powerful beats of her wings; they flew out of the gorge. Aragorn bit back a yelp as the ground left him dangerously fast. He gripped onto the dragon and the saddle for dear life as they flew higher and higher. Eventually, he simply closed his eyes, determined not to let go despite his drained muscles.

His stomach felt as if it were flipping and floating in the air, a strange lightweight sensation took him each time her powerful wings jostled them. But then the jostling stopped, and Elysia's wings steadied to a glide.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Aragorn opened his eyes. The reality struck him then and there when he felt the chilly air nip his face, the wind howl at his ears, and saw a massive column of pink orange cloud. He was _flying_. He was on a legendary beast, flying... The flips in his innards seemed to stop in surprise as well, and Aragorn simply drank in the sight. The clouds towered over him like a great kingdom of the heavens. They appeared thick enough to jump on.

Elysia tilted her head to glance at the ranger with one large silver eye. She blinked at his sheer silent amazement, and Aragorn felt a rumbling chuckle underneath him.

"It's quite something, is it not?" He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Aragorn could only stare. He stared at the plains of Rohan, the mountains afar, the sunset orange hue of the sky. The world was so much greater here, yet it also seemed smaller as well. So much space in this small world they lived in... So much room to breathe and to live. He suddenly felt relieved of the burdens in his mind.

Aragorn felt _free._

Elysia was content to glide through the clouds, but then her horns and ears received something odd. With a twitch, the dragon glanced down with a frown. Aragorn snapped out of his reverie.

"What is it?" He yelled out in the wind. They were soaring above a thin layer of cloud, obscuring the land bellow.

Elysia said nothing, but Aragorn hung on tight as she banked her body and began to fly through the layer. When they passed, an odd sight greeted Aragorn. A large black mass stained the land, several blocks of black forming a long line.

A hiss resonated through the dragon as her sharp eyes saw what it was. Aragorn frowned and squinted.

"Elysia, is that-"

"Uruk-hai." She growled as she began to fly higher. Aragorn tapped her neck.

"Wait!" He called. "Can you get their number? Fly lower so we can count!"

"They might spot us." Elysia warned, but she sank lower. She began to estimate the amount within each square. Her focus faltered when she spotted three massive black boxes being dragged in the march.

Aragorn frowned at the boxes as well, but then he spotted something even stranger in the distance. The clouds near them were darkening. The orange pink hue looked to be turning red. The ranger's grip on the saddle tightened as the realization struck him.

"ELYSIA!"

Elysia looked up at his call, and Aragorn barely had time to prepare his innards when she launched into a quick dive. Massive yellowed talons snatched where they just flew. Elysia banked sharply to the left and began to fly higher. Her ears caught the sound of an inhaling hiss, forcing her to make another sharp turn.

"Aragorn! Hold on!" She warned as she corkscrewed and managed to dodge the stream of red flame. The heat grazed her back, and Aragorn prepared to be singed, but Faersing began to glow and the fire never managed to snatch him. Instead, it licked and curled around an invisible barrier.

The storm drake managed to turn and hover to see who the culprit was. When she did, Elysia almost dropped out of the air in shock.

"Fyrenze! What are you DOING?!" She snarled at the blood colored wyvern.

Fyrenze snapped out his forked tongue into a wicked grin.

"Surprise, Bluescales!" He hissed and glared with great golden red eyes. The fire drake released a snort of smoke and sneered at the dragon maiden.

"I see you have a little meat package behind you, bastard." Fyrenze spat, baring his teeth.

Elysia snarled. "What have you _done_? You filthy blood traitor!"

Fyrenze chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowed. "I am reaching for the future. When the age of the Forsworn rises, we will triumph… The offer still stands to join, Bluescales… Toss off the meat burden, Elysia."

Aragorn held on tight while Elysia spat at Fyrenze. The red drake barely had time to dodge the firebolt.

"You're stupidity has overdone Smaug, you insufferable imbecile of a wymn." She snapped. "At least Smaug wasn't a cur of filthy black blooded halfwits."

The insult seemed to slap the blood scaled drake in the face. His pupils contracted and a look of sheer rage flooded his features. The scales of his chest began to leak a red hot glow. He opened his mouth and breathed out a pillar of flame. Elysia darted left and up, rotating in the air as she looped about. She felt Aragorn cling on tighter and narrowed her eyes. Positioning herself above the flame wyvern, she spat out an explosive bolt. It struck the wing joint of Fyrenze's shoulder, blasting him off his axis. Fyrenze let out a guttural squawk and managed to regain his balance. But before he could retaliate, Elysia was off, flying as fast as she could. Bloodscales only narrowed his eyes and did not pursue his target.

"This isn't over! I shall see you at Helm's Deep, bastard!" He roared.

Elysia did not acknowledge that with a reply, but she pumped her wings and darted through the sky. Aragorn stuck low to her body, not wanting to be thrown off. His eyes watered at the speed of her flight.

"Elysia! How many did you count?!" He yelled out into the wind.

The dragon flew lower and growled. "No less than ten thousand Uruk-hai. They are armed with harpoons, ladders, and there is no doubt Saruman has something foul in those black boxes."

She began to bank to the right and headed, aiming for the shortest route to the fortress. Elysia looked back with minor worry.

"Are you alright?"

Aragorn could only smile. "I'll live… Can't say that was my favorite first flight."

Elysia snorted. "Yes, I had better days…" She eased into a fast glide. She could feel the grip of the tired ranger loosen, and attempted to ease the ride as much as possible. They flew in silence, the calm of the flight belying the tension wrought in their mind. Finally, it was Elysia who spoke.

"Aragorn, what do we do?" She did not hide the uncertainty. There was no need to hide her doubts from this friend. Ten thousand Uruk-hai strong and ready against a weakened kingdom without enough riders to bear arms.

Aragorn could only pat her back. "We must endure…. Gandalf said to hold the keep."

They spotted the fortress melded into the ravine. Elysia couldn't hold back the bitter thoughts. It would be a massacre, like penned up sheep for the slaughter. She made a calm descend, aiming to land in front of the gates.

A watchmen spotted a blue winged creature nearing Helm's Deep. He sounded a warning.

"The blue dragon approaches!" He called.

There was a commotion within the civilian crowd. People screamed and held their loved ones close at the sight of the shadow swooping over them. Warriors simply stared in awe, still in disbelief that they had a _dragon_ in their arsenal. Gimli and Legolas immediately rushed to the gates.

Elysia landed gently, and Aragorn leapt off his seat. His legs wobbled unsteadily at the solid ground beneath him while the dragon began to disappear in her usual cloud of magic splendor. Soon, a pointy eared, petite woman came walking with Aragorn, relieving herself of the improvised saddle with a grimace.

"Next time, I am using a custom saddle." She grumbled as she tossed the saddle aside and rotated her shoulders and neck.

"There will be a next time?" Aragorn turned and tilted his head at her. Elysia gave him a smirk.

"Oh come on, raggedy ranger. Are you seriously going to say you prefer horseback after _that_?"

Aragorn could only snort. He honestly wasn't sure he wanted to experience such thrilling terror, although it was indeed something of great marvel. The ranger simply chuckled and put a lazy arm around the dragon.

"Where would I be without you, my friend?" He mused wearily.

"Floating down a river like a bloated carcass." She remarked as the gates opened. Aragorn chuckled. They entered the deep to be greeted by a small crowd.

Elysia's lightened nature quickly faded upon the wary faces of the people. Women, children, and men all gazed at her as though she were something to be feared and clearly unwelcome. The dragon hardly appeared bothered. She merely sighed in exasperation and kept her face neutral. Aragorn's arm around her became more protective.

The silent tension was broken by a familiar grumbling voice.

"Where is he? Where are they? Get out of the way! I'm going to kill him if the lass hadn't already!" Gimli practically shoved himself through the crowd. Upon spotting a very raggedy ranger with a stoic dragon, he broke into a smile.

"You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless man I ever knew." He almost whimpered and hugged the ranger and the dragon, much to her surprise.

"Ah bless yah for finding him, lass! And bless you too laddie!"

Elysia gave the dwarf a halfhearted smile and patted his shoulder.

"Where is the king?" Aragorn inquired.

...

Whispers filled the crowd of Lord Aragorn's return with the winged serpent beside him in mixtures of awe and fear. Gimli followed them and glared at the folks.

"What are ye all staring and yacking about? Quit looking at the lass like that! She won't bite ye!"

Elysia felt a little touched by the dwarf's defense. Then Legolas came into view, smiling at them. Taking one look at the ranger, he commented.

"_You're late…._ And you look terrible."

Aragorn handed Elysia back her sword belt and grinned. The dragon simply snorted as she strapped her belt while the elf revealed the Evenstar jewel to Aragorn. The ranger went quiet at the treasured trinket. He gazed at the Evenstar and earnestly whispered to his friend.

"_Thank you."_

Elysia was tightening her belt and checking her swords when Aragorn grabbed her and pressed a rough kiss to her temple. She stood a little stunned while the range grinned.

"And thank you, my dear bluescales."

Legolas appeared more amused than jealous by the odd wide eyed expression. Gimli simply thumped her back with a chuckle.

"Come on lass. We should get you some food."

000

Elysia munched on a boiled potato while Théoden paced around his hall, looking troubled.

"A great host, you say?"

Aragorn nodded, grave now as he briefed the king. "All of Isengard is emptied."

Theoden blanched at this.

"How many?" he pressed.

"Ten thousand strong at least. Ladders to scale the wall. Harpoons… And three large black boxes holding some new breed of terror." Aragorn stated. "And a dragon."

Théoden pivoted on his heel and stared at the ranger. "Ten thousand? A _dragon_?" He then gave Elysia a side glare, something that did not go unnoticed to the elf, man, and dwarf as well as the dragon.

Elysia swallowed her potato and glared back at the King.

"Are you going to glare at me as though I am responsible? I am not responsible for the traitorous behavior of some fire wyrm."

Théoden looked away. "I said nothing." he said.

"You insinuated, King Théoden. I am not an idiot." She snapped, folding her arms. "Hiss and spit at me later, as of now. You have an army coming to your doorstep, an army bred to annihilate the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall."

The King curled his lips and paced once more, deep in thought before he spoke. Stubborn fire burned in his eyes.

"Let them come…"

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